


"Two" Much

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Challenge Response, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, F/M, Magical Bond, Multi, Mystery, No Incest, Porn With Plot, Threesome, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, sexual magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 99,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione finds herself in a relationship with two Malfoy men. Can she handle it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Not So Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Ultrasonicbop (Chapters 1-17); LiterarySpell (Chapters 1-12); Margaritama (Chapters 1-12); Willowfaerie (Chapter 17); & Marc (Chapters 18-20).
> 
> Plot Beta: Emily Waters
> 
> This story was created by request for Dynonugget in 2008. It is not yet complete, however 17 chapters have been written. I have outlined 20 chapters and plan to finish it.
> 
> **Warning:** If you are a serious Ron fan, this is probably not the story for you. He is OOC and not a very nice bloke for most of the fic (the reason for his behavior will be revealed near the end).
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> [](http://imgur.com/16j4wDu)  
>  Banner by Draconis23

*  
*  
*

Hermione sat at her office desk staring at the cover of the paper in front of her. 

**_Keeper Makes Quite a Catch_ **

_Ronald Weasley, star Keeper for the Chudley Cannons, courts two of Britain’s most stunning Quidditch vixens, Victoria Holmes of the Tutshill Tornados, and Emma Knight of the Wimbourne Wasps. All three were seen together last night on the red carpet for this year’s Annual Quidditch All Star Charity Fundraiser. Both witches appear to be fine with the arrangement and even go as far as to say it’s the most fun they’ve had in years._

_No word as of yet from Weasley’s ex-wife, Hermione Granger, who did not return our requests for an interview._

 

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, her vision going out of focus as she tried not to cry.

Since Ron had come home a month ago and announced that he was divorcing her, it had been a daily fixation of _The Daily Prophet_. It didn’t help matters that he had moved on so quickly and was rumoured to be dating not one, but two of the hottest athletes this side of the Thames. 

She felt publicly humiliated, bitter, and angry with herself that she didn’t beat him to it. All the signs had been there that whatever love they had once shared was long gone.

He claimed he hadn’t discussed their sex life with anyone, but it was hard to believe that he didn’t have something to do with the rumours that she was frigid, unresponsive, and boring in the bedroom. Many of the tabloids and especially the Prophet speculated that although she was ‘cute’, she certainly wasn’t the siren that a star Quidditch player like Ron should have on his arm.

_‘Just because I don’t pile gobs of make-up on, wear revealing slutty clothing and flaunt my sexuality doesn’t mean that I can’t be a siren! Not that Ron deserves one anyway!’_ she thought bitterly to herself.

She ripped the newspaper in half, and with a quick flick of her wand, incinerated it in mid-air. As soon as she did, one of her co-workers, Abbey Stewart, passed her doorway. 

“Hi, Hermione, how are you doing?” she asked with a speculative gaze.

Hermione smiled back the best she could. “Great, Abbey, just great! Lots of work to do though!” she said in a super upbeat voice, as she shuffled through some papers, trying to signal that she really didn’t have time to talk.

Abbey gave her a pitiful smile. “That’s good. Well, I suppose I’ll see you around lunch, then?”

“Actually, I have a lunch date,” Hermione said rather loudly so that the people past Abbey could hear. 

A few heads behind Abbey turned curiously. 

“Oh! That’s…that’s wonderful, Hermione. Anyone I know?”

“As a matter of fact, you do— Draco Malfoy.”

Abbey chuckled in amusement. “Oh, him! I thought you had found yourself a new beau or something,” she said, shaking her head. “Talk to you later, then.”

Hermione pursed her lips. Of course, why would anyone ever believe her and Draco Malfoy were doing anything besides eating together? 

Even though they ate lunch together frequently these days, no one so much as batted an eye when they did. She was sure it had something to do with the fact that he was considered one of the most desirable bachelors in the Wizarding World and frankly, she was not on anyone’s most desirable list. 

His divorce from Astoria Greengrass had done nothing to hurt his social standing, in fact, it seemed to have given his status a boost. He was still good looking, rich, quite a charmer, and was often seen with a different witch on his arm every week. 

No one would suspect that someone like him would want the prim and proper frigid ex-wife of a superstar athlete who had supposedly been dumped because she couldn’t deliver the goods in bed. 

Hermione sighed and tried to get back to work but every few minutes she’d catch someone peering into her office. Since her divorce there had been non-stop whispering that Hermione was unable to drown out no matter how loud she turned up her wireless radio. She tried not to let it affect her, but found that she was paying more attention to the curious stares and gossip than her work. 

She groaned when she realised that she hadn’t made it past page four of the report she had wanted to finish by noon. Closing the cover, she sat back in contemplation. 

She had always looked forward to going to work because she loved reading and her job required plenty of it, but now, this was the last place she wanted to be. Not that anywhere else would have been much better. Even at the library now, she ran the risk of being followed, and the whispers seemed even more deafening there.

She started thinking of where she could escape to get away from it all. Perhaps she could move somewhere like Ireland or Switzerland, they had good Ministry departments there. 

She was shaken out of her daze by a familiar drawl.

“Granger.”

Hearing her former last name said so definitively as if it were the only name she had ever gone by was strangely comforting right now. She looked up in relief to see Draco at her door. Even when she was Mrs Ronald Weasley, he had refused to call her that. 

He was the one person she could count on not to use false pleasantries and fake smiles to hide their pity and morbid curiosity with her very public dismissal.

“Yes, Malfoy?”

“We’re still on for lunch, yes?”

“Yes, and since when do you stop by to double check? Scared I’ll stand you up?” she said with a smirk.

“Hardly. I was hoping you’d cancel— I’ve filled my charity quota for the month,” he said, giving her a smirk of his own.

“Charity, am I? Just for that, you’re paying,” she said with smile.

“Not a problem, see you in a few,” he said giving her a genuine smile before walking away.

~~~*~~~

As he strode back to his office, Draco heard someone whisper something about Hermione’s divorce and Weasley’s latest publicity stunt, dating two women at once. He rolled his eyes and briefly felt a tug of pity for her, but quickly dismissed it.

He told himself that he had a little sympathy for Hermione, having been through a very public divorce himself. Of course, he wasn’t a member of the famed and very much beloved Golden Trio and so his life wasn’t nearly as scrutinised as hers had been over the past few weeks. Still, he remembered with quite some bitterness the way _The Daily Prophet_ had drudged up his past misdeeds and attempted to assassinate his character during his divorce with Greengrass.

As he thought about Hermione and their latest interaction, he found himself admiring her stoicism. He knew she was hurting, but he also knew that because she was the quintessential Gryffindor, she would never show it. 

He smiled to himself thinking about how much things had remained the same despite the fact that so much had changed.

If anyone would have told Draco that he would be meeting Hermione Granger several times a week for lunch just five years ago, he would have considered smacking them upside the head. 

But a lot of things can happen in five years. Marriage, divorce, kids—thank Merlin he had avoided that with Greengrass! And even unlikely friendships. 

They had been on speaking terms since war had ended. Actually, that wasn’t true, it had been a slow progression towards something like friendship, with the constant onslaught of funerals, media frenzy, and public derision of anyone associated with Death Eaters making Draco’s life very unpleasant. 

The Trio was very much a part of the crowd that publicly shunned and regarded the Malfoys with disdain, but after a year or so of alienation, she had made the first move towards being civil. 

Later, she would confess to him that it took a great deal more energy to be angry than it did to forgive, and when she had reached out to speak to him, she had been making an effort to move on. 

When they had both wound up taking jobs in the Ministry, it had offered an opportunity for them to bury the hatchet since they worked in departments that frequently interacted. 

And even though Hermione still annoyed Draco with her bossy advice and know-it-all answers to everything, he found himself looking forward to their lunches together. She was one of the few witches that he could count on not to put on airs to prove how worthy she was to be the next Mrs Draco Malfoy. If anything, her disinterest in that title made her more attractive and relaxing to be around.

True, she still had the bushy wild mess she called hair sitting on top of her head, and she did nothing to try to spruce up her wardrobe, opting for rather plain robes and choosing not bother with make-up. But he had to admit that she retained a natural allure that was endearing and had the potential to be positively sexy when she wanted it to be so. 

He wasn’t buying all of that rubbish he read about her frigid asexual nature and how it had driven Weasley to pursue other women. It was obvious Weasley just didn’t know what he was doing. Draco believed that every woman had a hidden sex kitten in them, but only revealed that side to worthy men, especially a brilliant and complicated witch like Hermione Granger. 

He licked his lips as he thought of something he had buried and designated as off limits since she had married Weasley. 

Maybe now that she was free of the Weasel, she would be looking for someone who was worthy to see that hidden side of her. He would definitely rise to the task if she gave any indication she was interested.

Lunch today would be interesting.

~~~*~~~

Hermione stared back at Draco with a carefully planted blank expression to hide her bewilderment.

Draco was flirting. Flirting hard. 

At first, she wasn’t sure if he was being his usual self and she was just reading into things. But no, he had dropped more than a few innuendos and compliments within their short span of time together at lunch.

And were his lips dry or something? She had never seen him lick them so much and so slowly. 

Maybe he really did think she was a charity case, and felt that by flirting with her, somehow her confidence would get a much-needed boost. 

Well Hermione didn’t need his damn pity. Although, she couldn’t deny that it was much more interesting being on the receiving end of his charm instead of his playful insults. Still, she didn’t appreciate being thought of as a sad reject that needed stroking.

But what if he really was interested? Was that even possible? And if it were, would she really encourage him? Of course she was attracted, she had long given up the battle with herself to deny that. But with his reputation and all of the unwanted attention she was already receiving, the last thing Hermione needed right now was to set herself up for more public humiliation. 

“Granger, you have to try this,” he said, reaching out with his fork to offer her a piece of fruit fool. 

She studied him for a moment before leaning over hesitantly, and opening her mouth to accept it. 

“Oops, got some cream on your mouth,” he said, taking his thumb and swiping the side of her mouth with it, pausing to trace her lips before casually pulling his hand away.

Hermione stared back at him, trying not to pant, and not sure of what to say, when she heard someone standing over her clearing his throat. 

“Draco,” Lucius Malfoy said, looking down at his son and Hermione.

Hermione gave Mr Malfoy a small smile. Draco looked startled to see his father.

“Father, what are you—”

“The Board of Directors meeting,” Lucius answered quickly.

Draco nodded. “Oh, right… Father, you know Granger.” 

“Yes, of course, _Hermione_ , how good it is to see you again. Honestly Draco, you’re still calling her by her last name?”

Draco shrugged.

“Mr Malfoy,” Hermione said bowing her head in acknowledgement. 

“I trust you received word from my solicitor about my donation to the Elf Relief Fund?”

“Yes, I was very surprised,” Hermione said, looking back at Draco to see if he knew what his father had been up to lately.

Draco made a ‘do I care’ face.

“Oh? I thought it was quite clear that I have a steadfast commitment the development of that particular project,” he said, looking somewhat indignant. 

“I’m sorry Mr Malfoy, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that, well…things change, don’t they?” she finished awkwardly.

“Yes, Hermione, they do,” he said, giving her a rarely seen smile.

“In any case, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I’ll leave you two to your…lunch,” he said raising an eyebrow at Draco. “Good day.”

“Goodbye, Father,” Draco said in an obligatory manner. 

“Good day to you, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione said, watching as he walked away. 

When she turned back to look at Draco he seemed to be considering her. 

She broke eye contact, not quite comfortable with his stare, and racked her brain for something to say to move past the strangeness of the entire lunch. 

“It’s amazing how much you two look alike,” she finally said, taking a big swallow of her drink. 

“You think so? I don’t see it,” he said with a puzzled expression.

“Are you joking?” she asked.

Draco smiled. “Yes.”

Hermione sniggered. 

“So…do you think he’s attractive,” he asked, watching her.

“Your dad?”

Draco nodded.

“Draco! What a weird question!” she said, trying not to blush. She most definitely did think Lucius Malfoy was very attractive. He had to be, to father such an attractive man like Draco. 

“Well, you were staring at him rather intensely,” Draco said, the shadow of smirk creeping on his face. 

Hermione scoffed. “In case you didn’t notice, he has a rather imposing stare that commands attention when he speaks. It’s hard not to stare back.”

“Yes, he does have a way of doing that.” 

“So do you,” she said softly, looking back at him carefully. 

Draco sat back, staring at her. “Do you like that?”

“Draco, are you flirting with me?”

“Yes, actually I am,” he said smiling.

“Think I’m a real charity case, do you?” she said with small scowl.

“No, I’d never think that. You don’t need anyone to help you, it’s one of the things that makes you rather intriguing actually,” he said. 

“Well, as flattering as that is, I don’t know what to say,” she said finally breaking eye contact and playing with her food.

“Would you know what to say if I asked you out on a date?” he asked.

Hermione swallowed, her eyes darting to see who was looking at them. “I – I would probably say no.”

Draco frowned. ”What’s the matter? Not your type? Should I glamour myself some freckles and red hair?”

Hermione sighed. “It’s just not a good time, with all of the media attention and I wouldn’t want to use you in that way.”

“Granger, you can use me anyway you need to, remember that. Now, I have to go back to work. Perhaps I’ll talk to you later?”

Hermione smirked. “Yes, perhaps.”

“Hopefully sooner than later,” he said with a wink before licking his lips and picking up the cheque to take to the cashier. 

Hermione pretended to be finishing her lunch, but as soon as he left she dropped her fork and exhaled, her mind racing as to whether she was up to the challenge of seeing the likes of Draco Malfoy.

~~~*~~~

Lucius Malfoy frowned as he sat in his study, drinking an aged brandy. He was perturbed.

He told himself that he wasn’t annoyed that he had walked in on his son eating lunch with the former Gryffindor Mu-Muggle-born. 

_Dammit!_ He was still training himself not to say or think Mudblood. He almost had it that time.

No, he was annoyed that Hermione had called his donation to the Elf Relief Fund _surprising._

Since Narcissa had passed away over five years ago, he had given to numerous charities. Albeit, unknown to anyone except for Draco, it had started out as an act to honour the deathbed request of Narcissa. She had wanted him to restore the Malfoy name by giving back and reconnecting to the community from which they had alienated themselves. 

But since those first few obligatory donations, he had grown to be quite a philanthropist, becoming active in researching, choosing, and spearheading fundraising for his most cherished causes, some of which undoubtedly raised a few eyebrows within pure-blood social circles. The Elf Relief Fund was one of those. 

Reflecting on how Dobby had risked his life to save Harry Potter and the way in which he had ended up saving them all because of his sacrifice never failed to scourge him with guilt. And so, forgoing all scorn from his pure-blood associates, he made sure that that particular fund was at the top of the Malfoy gift list each year. 

But no matter how much he gave, he would always be regarded as Lucius Malfoy, right hand man to the defeated Dark Lord. If they only knew, or bothered to know, he had changed in so many ways. 

Although there were some things about him that hadn’t changed at all.

He rose from his study and wandered into the drawing room to call Tizzy, the only house-elf he kept nowadays. Tizzy had pleaded with him to stay at the Manor and Lucius had reluctantly agreed because she offered him some sort of company and he viewed his relationship with her as a form of penance for how he had treated Dobby.

“Yessir, Mr Malfoy?”

“Are all the invitations ready?”

“Yessir, they is ready and is set to be delivered by tonight, Sir.”

“Thank you, Tizzy. Please owl the Dungeon Commander and let him know that everything is prepared and I would like him to be here no later than 6pm tomorrow.”

“Yessir! Dinner is ready, I’s made your favourite!”

“Tizzy, if you always make my favourite, it may not be my favourite much longer,” he sighed.

Tizzy looked back at him confused. 

Lucius shook his head, and she disappeared.

He took a long walk through his front parlour, through the sitting room, past the dining room, and several guest bedrooms, to the back of the Manor towards the ballroom. When he came to it, he looked at it approvingly. It wasn’t the grandest ballroom, but it was still dazzling. And unlike many Dungeon Masters, he didn’t have to rent the space. The fact that he could host a fetish play party of the size and magnitude that he put on each month in his home was impressive in itself. 

Since Narcissa had passed away, the Manor felt grotesque in size, each room seemed much larger than before, and all of the areas where he had formerly dined suddenly appeared ridiculously overdone, reminding Lucius that he was alone. For all of its grandeur, at times the Manor felt more like a prison than even Azkaban, deceptive in its beauty and space which seemed to mock him in the quiet hours when he used to take comfort in Narcissa’s arms.

The first time Lucius hosted a fetish party it had made him quite anxious. It wasn’t prudent for a defamed pure-blood of his stature to engage in such open debauchery. Even at the height of the Death Eater popularity among purebloods, such activities were heavily practiced but hardly ever discussed, and never publicised.

He had been careful at first, only inviting a few people who he knew shared his proclivities for BDSM, voyeurism, and group sex. He knew that he was in a precarious position as a former Death Eater, and the risk of exposure for hosting such events would only confirm the many myths people still believed about him. 

Over the years however, the popularity of the Malfoy fetish parties had grown. Too much, in his view. Lately, he had to scale back to ensure that insincere participants seeking to destroy the Malfoy name or spread hurtful gossip did not intrude. 

In addition to guards and special security wards designed to detect the press and people who may be there only to cause problems, this year he had switched to special invitations, which were required in order to get past the guards. And as an extra precaution, for tomorrow’s event, all attendees would be required to wear some sort of mask. 

He clapped his hands together in anticipation. 

Tomorrow night was going to be deliciously fun; his parties always were.


	2. Something New

*  
*

That evening as she lay in bed, Hermione found herself imagining what it would be like to be with Draco. At first she pictured it for the sheer joy she’d get from all of the jealous looks and questions from the nosy busy bodies at her job who thought she was would remain the sad jilted ex-wife of Ronald Weasley. 

She thought of Ron’s reaction to the news. If Draco were seeing her then the rumours about her being frigid would quickly be laid to rest. Perhaps even scrutiny would turn to Ron about his abilities to entertain her! She silently giggled as she thought of that. 

Her musings eventually drifted to the way Draco had swiped the cream off of her mouth and traced her lips with his thumb. She had wanted to stick her tongue out and suck on that thumb so bad. Closing her eyes, she imagined his eyes, his smirk, and his hands all over her. Her hand wandered across her belly and in between her legs, and she began to caress her clit, sliding one of her fingers inside of herself.

She tried to imagine what Draco’s cock must look like and she wondered what it would feel like inside of her. How he would handle her; would he be rough or gentle at first? Would he eat her out or finger her or just go straight to it, fucking her until she was incoherent. She slipped in a second finger as she pictured his handsome, lustful face hovering over hers.

But the lines of his face changed, and his features became even more chiselled and refined with age. Her vision of him suddenly morphed into someone much older, a man whose eyes were sharpened by years of experience and wisdom. 

Lucius. 

Hermione paused, feeling the heat of her blush in her skin, even though she was alone within the safe confines of her bedroom. Why had Lucius Malfoy’s face crept into her thoughts as she was getting herself off? She wanted to shag Draco, not his father!

But they did look alike, and she had forgotten how small and vulnerable the elder Malfoy could make someone feel, even when he was being nice. He had a presence that demanded acknowledgement, and his words dripped with a confidence and subtle restrained power that always made her shiver, even when she had thought him to be evil. Draco held promise of one day growing into a man with the same sort of self-assured graceful authority, but he had a ways to go before it exuded from him in such an effortless manner. 

A naughty smile grew on her face as she slipped in a third finger and thought about how Lucius would take her. She had no doubt he would be amply endowed and she imagined he would take her quite hard. At least she would want him to. She quickened her pace, pumping her fingers inside of herself as she twisted her hips to grind against them at the speed and intensity she thought Lucius would use. 

And as her climax began to build, she allowed one last fantasy to unfold in her mind. It was truly wicked, but she had already come this far. 

Lucius was still deep inside of her, taking her without mercy, and she was holding onto him tightly, but there was another set of grey eyes looking down at them. Draco gave her a devious smirk before leaning in to ravish her mouth.

“Do you like that, Granger?” he whispered once the kiss broke. Before she could answer, his cock had replaced his mouth and was pushing itself between her lips, even as Lucius’ mouth fell against her neck.

Hermione cried out as her orgasm arrived, leaving her trembling and swearing out loud. She swore to herself that she would never imagine anything that depraved again. 

Still, the next morning, she woke up with a smile on her face.

~~~*~~~

Draco awoke with a jerk. He was not in bed alone. The skank he had brought home to relieve him of his horniness after flirting with Granger was still there.

A bit of spittle ran down the side of her mouth as she snored in rather unlady like fashion. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Definitely not a keeper.

He sat up, and cleared his throat loudly until her snore broke. She looked up at him, wiping the corner of her mouth and smiling shyly. 

“You fell asleep,” he said irritably.

She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you accidently fell asleep. You slept here all night.”

She scowled and sat up quickly, clearly affronted. “That was no accident!”

Draco crossed his arms. “Too bad, because now, I’m really going to have to ask you to leave.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it in shock. “You have some nerve!”

“Yes, well, it is my bed. Now if you’ll kindly show yourself out,” he said, extending his hand towards the door. 

She rose and dressed in haste, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Would never know you were a Malfoy! Your father has much better manners!”

Draco felt a spark of anger at the very mention of his father. “Pardon me, but you don’t know anything about me or my family. Now get out!”

Within the next few seconds she hastily grabbed her purse and Apparated.

Draco sighed, feeling the tension and anger leaving him as he shook his head. “How dare she mention my family, as if she could ever—”

He paused as his eyes fell upon a small black envelope on the floor. It was lying next to a lipstick container and a few Knuts. Apparently she had left so fast that a few contents of her jacket had spilled. 

Well he had no intention of returning any of them. 

He climbed out of bed and walked over to pick up the slick black envelope. There was a familiar crest on it, but no identifying name to confirm the identity of the family. When he went to touch it, the crest changed shape, the silver markings rising and stretching out into little chains.

_Your attendance is requested for our monthly_

_Fetish Play Party_

_at_

_The Exquisite Dungeon_

_This Friday_

_8:00pm_

_All guests must be cleared with the Dungeon Commander before arrival._

_Proper Kink Attire Only_

_Masks Required_

_Toys and equipment will be provided, but feel free to bring your own._

_Contact the Dungeon Master or the Dungeon Commander if you have any questions, concerns, or require special accommodations._

.

Draco closed his eyes. The Exquisite Dungeon? Dungeon Master? Of course, this was Lucius’ party. The rumours were indeed true. 

For over a year now Draco had heard that his father may actively be involved in hosting perverted little parties at the Manor, but he had shrugged it off as backlash and an attempt to slander Lucius’ newfound involvement in the Ministry and charity. 

He didn’t know anyone who had actually been or even had any proof that these parties took place. 

What the hell was Lucius doing? Was he barking mad? 

Draco wasn’t angry that his father was a bit kinky, because he was pretty kinky himself. And he even understood the desire to indulge in one’s interests and perhaps host an occasional kinky social event, but every month?! He was turning the Manor into a huge dungeon playground for all sorts of perverts to engage in Merlin knew what. 

His mother would roll over in her grave if she knew. Draco threw the invitation on the bed and stared at it. Even though his father still inspired a great deal of fear in him, the man needed to be confronted about this. Draco would use this invitation to get into the party and see what was going on for himself, and then he would confront Lucius.

But first, he needed someone to take.

~~~*~~~

When Hermione arrived at work, she didn’t go to her office straight away; instead she lingered in the staff lounge. She prepared herself some tea, and took a seat on the couch. The lounge was much closer to Draco’s office, and she wanted to make herself available so that they could at least set a lunch date for later in the day.

As she sat down to read the fun sections of _The Daily Prophet_ , ignoring the rest, she overheard the two women in front of her talking. 

“I don’t think it’s true; every time someone tries to catch him hosting one of those things, they come up empty and looking pretty silly for accusing him,” the first woman said. 

“I don’t know. There must be something to it, why won’t the rumours die?” asked the second woman.

“I think people just like to talk, especially about the Malfoys.”

Another woman came into the lounge, and they greeted her from across the room and asked her to join them.

As soon as she sat down the conversation resumed.

“So, what’s news?” she asked. 

“Well, have you heard?” the second woman said eagerly. 

“No, what?”

“It’s simply scandalous; Lucius is hosting another one of those parties!”

“I don’t believe it!” said the third woman in incredulity. 

“I don’t think it’s true either,” said the first woman.

“I’d wager it is!” said the second woman.

“Oh for Gods’ sake Katie, the man is an upstanding citizen. He gives loads to several important charities,” the first woman said, looking irritated.

“Yes, and he always throws the most delightful Christmas parties,” said the third woman.

The second woman shook her head. “The only reason he’s given so much money is to erase the memory of what he was before. Does everyone around here have long term memory loss or was Lucius Malfoy not a Death Eater?” 

A short stocky wizard who had been standing at the counter filled with pastries, turned around on his heel. 

It was Simon Witherspoon, the Assistant Deputy Director of the Ministry.

He was quite red in the face, and when he directed his stare at the table of women, everyone in the room froze and watched as he slowly approached them.

“I’ve heard enough! You watch your mouth, Katherine Banks! Lucius Malfoy is a member of the Board of Directors, a philanthropist, and a benevolent soul. He has more than paid his debt for his past, and I will not tolerate you slandering his name. Do you have proof of these activities?”

The woman glanced at her friends who were looking down at the table in fear. “N-no, Sir.”

“Then I suggest you keep the gossip in the alley where it belongs. Now everyone get back to work!” he said to the entire room before stomping out.

Everyone rose and scrambled to leave. Hermione was last. As she approached the door, it flew open, barely missing her foot. 

“Ah, just the person I was looking for,” Draco said as he slid inside and stood against the door to block her exit.

“Oh?” she said, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Yes. Remember yesterday when I asked you, hypothetically, what you would say if I asked you out on a date?”

Hermione nodded, keenly aware her mouth had gone dry and she could practically hear her heartbeat. 

“Well now I’m asking you for real, Granger – will you go out with me?” he asked stiffly, as if expecting rejection.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” she said with a coy smile.

Draco relaxed and smiled a little. “Can you keep your mouth shut?” 

“What?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I want to take you to a special event, but your complete and utter silence about where we are going and what you will see is required,” he said in a hushed voice.

Hermione thought of the conversation earlier, and raised an eyebrow. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your father, would it?”

Draco briefly covered his face with his hand. “You know?”

“Well, there are rumours.”

“Of course. There are always rumours,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“So it’s true, then?” she asked.

“Do you want to go or not?” he asked with annoyance in his voice.

Hermione frowned. “What makes you think I would attend a… what is it again?” 

Draco smiled. “Do you own a corset?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, what kind of freaky thing is this?”

“Granger, are you going to interrogate me about every last detail or are you ready break out of the safe and boring little routine you call life and try something new?”

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. “If I didn’t know better, Malfoy, I’d say that sounded more like a dare than an invitation to go out.”

“Which one excites you more?” he asked with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile. “The dare, of course.”

“Well then, I dare you to go out with me _tonight_. I’ll pick you up around eight.” His eyes wandered over her body appraisingly. “Oh, and don’t worry about the corset; I’ll have one delivered to you by the time you get home.” 

“You will?” she said still trying to process that she may actually have to wear a corset and perhaps not much more. “Don’t you need my measurements?”

Draco grinned. “No, I’m pretty sure I have those,” he said, licking his lips.

Hermione blushed and looked away. “I really need to go back to work now.”

“All right then, see you at eight, Granger,” he said, stepping to the side to let her pass. 

As Hermione made her way back to her office, she found it hard to control her breathing and had to concentrate on walking casually to calm herself down. 

What had she just agreed to? Where was Draco taking her? What kind of perverted little event was Lucius hosting?

She couldn’t deny that a part of her was extremely excited that she was going to such an exclusive event, something that was regarded as myth and only rumoured to exist. Still, another part of her was anxious. What would be expected of her? Would it be too freaky and how would she get out of it if it were? 

Hermione smirked as she thought of her fantasy the night before, and decided that tonight she would take a few risks and try some new things. 

She was determined to surprise Draco. Hell, perhaps she would even surprise herself.


	3. The Party

When Hermione came home, there was a large gold box waiting for her on the doorstep with a note attached. She waited until she was inside to tear into it. A small gasp escaped her when she opened it. 

Although she had never worn a corset before, Hermione had seen them in stores and magazines, and could recognize a finely made piece when she saw one. 

This one was red and black with diamond like sequins sewn into the trim. The red portion was fine silk brocade, and it had overlapping spiral steel bone placement, which lay underneath what looked to be a unique pattern of hand crafted black lace. There was a matching long elegant skirt with a single strand of sequins wrapping around the waist.

After trying it on, she couldn’t stop staring at her reflection. She’d always had a nice figure, but the corset emphasized every curve, accentuating her small waist, tight firm thighs, and lifting her cleavage in a manner that made her appear buxom but not overly so. She looked sexy.

The note attached had instructions, the most important of which seemed to be that she should conceal anything that would give away her identity. 

Her hair would be a sticking point and she groaned as she contemplated what to do with it. She absolutely hated dealing with it. The idea of using a spell or magical substance to straighten it briefly crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to risk damaging it for just one night. A bun seemed too uptight; she absolutely hated them. Finally, Hermione decided to put it back into a French braid. 

And then there was the mask.

It was a black mask, just large enough to conceal the area around her eyes. It, too, was decorated with diamond like sequins to match the ones on her corset. 

She didn’t bother with eye make-up, instead opting to apply a hint of blush, and some gloss for her lips. By the time Draco arrived, she was impressed with herself. 

When she opened the door, she was pleased to see him donning black leather trousers with a metal studded belt, a form fitting black silk shirt, and black boots with a silver chain on the side. He looked quite dashing. 

She almost laughed out loud at the look on his face. He seemed to be struggling as he tried to conceal his surprise and attraction.

“It’s the Yule Ball all over again,” he said stepping inside, looking her over slowly once more. 

“What?”

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Don’t act as if you don’t know,” he said, shaking his head, looking her over for the tenth time since she had opened the door.

Hermione batted her eyes and smiled coyly. “Are you referring to the fact that I look rather hot?” 

Draco chuckled. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I like a woman with confidence.”

“I’ve always been confident, Malfoy. I just despise focusing on my looks. There are more important matters than beauty,” she replied.

Draco stepped towards her, so close Hermione could feel his breath on her face. “First of all, call me Draco; I don’t want you addressing me by my last name at this party. Second, tonight I own you.”

“What?”

Draco huffed. “It’s a kink party, I’m a dominant, and you’re…well, you’ll be whatever I need you to be tonight, and right now, I need a submissive, speaking of which, here,” he said, pulling out a black leather collar with a rhinestone engraved hook that matched her outfit. 

He moved behind her to put it around her neck, fastening it tightly. When came back around to see how it looked he looked very pleased. 

“I didn’t think it was possible, but that collar makes you look even more stunning, Granger,” he said

“Thanks,” she said as she turned to retrieve a trench coat from her coat closet.

“Ah, Granger, what’s that?” he asked, pointing to the coat.

“I’m not going out in public like this without covering up!” Hermione said firmly.

“You most certainly will go without covering up. No one covers up at these things; you’ll look out of place with a coat on! I’m not arriving at a Malfoy party looking out of place!”

“You mean your father’s party,” she said pointedly.

“Whatever, take it off,” he said aggravated.

“No, I think your father would desire a certain amount of discretion,” she said.

“Well we wouldn’t want to go making him happy, now would we?” he snipped.

She narrowed her eyes. “Were you even invited?”

“Of course! He’s my father, isn’t he?” he asked in a not so convincing manner.

Hermione stared back at him sceptically, trying to discern whether if he was lying or not. 

“Fine!” she said finally, putting the coat back. 

Draco smiled victoriously and wrapped his arm around hers. She prepared herself for a sidelong Apparation, when she saw Draco close his eyes briefly and turn to her.

She turned to him, waiting.

He looked at the floor and then back at her with trepidation.

“What is it?” she asked anxiously.

“I just want to make sure…that you’re going to be all right tonight,” he said with an uncharacteristic shaky voice.

“For Merlin’s sake, I’m not that uptight!”

“No Granger, this isn’t about the party; it’s about where it’s being held,” Draco said gravely.

“Where?” 

“The Manor,” he said softly, watching her closely.

Hermione looked back at him and blinked as several memories flashed before her eyes. 

The Manor. So much had happened there, and it felt like it occurred just yesterday and so long ago at the same time. She shuddered.

“I probably should have told you that earlier,” he said with a guilty expression.

“Right,” she said, looking up at him.

“Look, if it’s going make you feel weird, we don’t have to go,” he said sincerely.

“Really?” she asked, studying him.

“Yeah, I can think of a million places I’d like to take you right now,” he said, smiling.

Hermione took a deep breath. “But, I want to go to the party."

“You sure? You’re not going to freak out on me when we walk inside?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m ready to put the past behind me. Things change, right?” she said as she took his arm, looking straight ahead to indicate that she was ready.

“Right,” he said looking at her admiringly before Apparating them to the front gates of the Manor, where two security guards were posted.

~~~*~~~

Draco wrinkled his brow in annoyance. It was evident that the invitation was enough to breach the security wards, so why were the Manor’s security guards standing just beyond the point where the wards ended? They had been stationed at the front entrance. He also found it slightly bothersome that the guards seemed to be leering at Hermione with unveiled interest.

Although he knew both of them quite well, he didn’t want to announce himself. Draco waved his hands before the eyes of one of them.

“Hello?” he said impatiently. 

The guard’s attention quickly turned to Draco. “Er, do you have an invitation?”

“I was under the impression that gaining entry through the wards was proof of an invitation,” he said in frustration.

“The Dungeon Master had a change of plans; extra precautions are being taken to keep out undesirables,” the guard said, looking down at Draco as if he may be one of those. 

“Invitation please,” he said.

“Of course,” Draco said, smiling smugly as he pulled the envelope from his jacket. 

The guard took the invitation and looked at it closely, and then glanced back up at Hermione before settling his eyes back onto Draco. 

“Name?” the first guard asked, looking both of them over scrupulously.

“Why?” Draco asked with a challenge in his voice.

The guard looked back at him as if was about to kick him off of the property when the other guard grabbed his arm and shook his head, motioning his eyes towards Draco’s head. 

The first guard followed his eyes and studied Draco for a few moments before relaxing. 

“Young Malfoy?”

Draco sighed in irritation at being identified. “David, I thought guests were supposed to remain anonymous, you can’t go around saying my name!”

The other guard chuckled. “Well, it’s pretty hard to miss, you have the Malfoy trademark.”

Draco cursed under his breath. “Perhaps, I should glamour my hair, then.”

“I wasn’t talking about your hair, I was talking about your attitude.”

“Funny,” Draco said in a humourless tone.

“You shouldn’t bother hiding your identity anyway, I think you’ll find it comes with perks tonight,” he said with slight grin.

Draco inched closer to him. “I can’t believe you’re supporting this, how long has he been doing this?” he whispered harshly.

“You know your father, he does what he wants. I’m just doing my job,” he said, looking straight ahead to indicate that’s all he had to say about the subject matter.

Draco made it a point to show his distaste by clicking his teeth before pulling Hermione along with him towards the front door.

As they passed the guards, the front door opened, and they were ushered in by two women dressed in similar black leather corsets with white trim down the middle to indicate their status as hostesses for the evening.

Draco’s eyebrows shot up as he took in the changes Lucius had made to the inside of the Manor. The foyer, which was normally painted an eggshell white, had been changed to a blood red palette with black velvet ropes lining its edges, stretching as far back as the eye could see. It didn’t go unnoticed by Draco that several of the family’s expensive art pieces had been replaced by decadent depictions of people engaged in acts so depraved that it even made him blush.

Beyond the front room, it was evident that other rooms had been similarly decorated, but many of them had specific purposes. Draco and Hermione slowly walked through each of them. There was room set up specifically for bondage play with various types of apparatus designed to restrain the willing. There was a whipping room with an expert bullwhip handler showing other Dominants his whipping technique. Hermione didn’t like the look of that and quickly pulled Draco to the next room. There was a room featuring spanking demonstrations, and several women and men were being spanked there. Draco and Hermione stayed there for a while to observe before moving on to the next room, which came with a special warning and a healer on standby. It was set up for fire and electricity play, which Draco seemed to find fascinating. And finally, there was a room for bodily fluid play that Hermione refused to enter. 

All the other rooms were for general play of diverse tastes, and there were all sorts of interests on display there. There were even people in cages and hanging from suspended crosses scattered throughout. The torchlight flames were soft and subdued, charmed to reflect different colours depending on the room. All together, the atmosphere was very fascinating and seductive. 

_“Damn his father!”_ Draco thought. He no longer wanted to confront Lucius; he wanted to play.

~~~*~~~

Draco held onto Hermione’s arm tightly as he guided her inside. She thought it was rather strange how protective and possessive the gesture felt, considering that this was their first time out, but then she remembered her role for the evening and found herself smiling.

He looked around and then back at her. Through his mask, the twinkling glint of his grey eyes stood out even more. 

“Think you can handle being by yourself for a few moments while I go look for my father?”

“Oh, how will I survive being by myself in such a big room?” she asked sarcastically. 

He smiled. “All right, I’ll be right back, just don’t wander too far,” he said, before walking back down the corridor. 

Hermione looked around and noticed that several men and women were watching her with appraising eyes. Suddenly, she felt very exposed and wished she had brought her coat. Although she had to concede that Draco had been right, no one else there was covered up in the slightest. In fact, to her surprise, some people were almost completely starkers save a few pieces of leather strapped over their bits.

A waitress wearing a cut out corset with her breasts exposed and supported by the leather approached her with a serving tray. The tray was filled with glasses of what appeared to be bubbly champagne.

“Oh, champagne, thanks,” Hermione said.

“Oh, no dear, we don’t serve alcohol at these parties. Everything we do here is safe, sane, and consensual. Have to keep your wits about you, you know,” she said in a voice that reminded her more of a professor than a server.

“I see,” Hermione said, taking the glass anyway. She needed something to occupy her nerves. 

An older man, with short unkempt salt and pepper hair, and a grey mask approached her.

“Hello, pet, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he said in a creepy voice that made Hermione’s skin crawl. His slimy smile didn’t help increase her comfort with him either.

“That’s because I’ve never been here before, well, not to one of these parties at least,” she said in the professional businesslike tone she always took on when she was trying not to show fear.

“But you’ve been here before, outside of that?”

“Er, yes,” she said, looking around. 

Where was Draco?

“Friend of the family?” he asked.

“Sort of,” she said, about to make up an excuse to make an exit when a strong arm wrapped around hers, pulling her closer to a wonderfully firm body she had been aching to touch. 

“Excuse me, this is my submissive,” Draco said with a warning in his voice. 

The man seemed startled and somewhat embarrassed. “Oh, sorry, ah, pardon me. I didn’t realise… if possible may I play with her later?”

“No, she won’t be playing tonight, and if she does I will be the only one handling her,” he said rather loudly as if to warn any other suitors in the room.

The man glanced back at Hermione. “I see, well, it was nice to meet you, play safe,” he said, turning to bow his head in deference to Draco.

Draco tightened his grip on her arm, causing Hermione to wince. “I see I can’t leave for five minutes and you’re already getting yourself in trouble.”

She giggled appreciatively. “Possessive, aren’t we? You’re hurting me.”

“Granger, you haven’t seen pain yet, watch and learn,” he said, motioning his head to the back of the room. 

As they walked over to the play scene attracting a crowd, Hermione looked at Draco curiously. “Did you see your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, no, not yet,” he said, looking irritated.

“Be honest Draco, did he even know that you were coming?”

“What would you say if I told you he did?”

She considered him for a few moments. “I’d say that was pretty kinky in itself. Have you been before?”

“Granger, you ask too many questions, just hang out and try to relax, all right?”

As they made their way to back of the room, Hermione heard the soft whimpers of a woman and the sound of something smacking against skin. She peered her head around a few heads of the crowd that had gathered to watch, and saw with shock that there was indeed an older woman being paddled over the knee by another woman.

Hermione scanned the crowd, and saw that no one else was particularly surprised, on the contrary, they all appeared to be quite engaged and even entranced by the scene before them. She realized she was gaping at the people in the crowd instead of the scene and quickly returned her eyes back to it. 

The woman being paddled had her eyes clenched shut, and her mouth was open in what looked to be a continuous gasp, as if she was having problems catching her breath. The woman paddling her seemed quite in control, with a firm grip on the waist of the woman on her lap. She would pause every so often to soothe her submissive's arse before resuming into a series of punishing blows. 

Hermione found herself transfixed on the face of the women being paddled. She looked so oblivious to everyone watching her, as if she were in her own world and wanted to stay there. Hermione was intrigued how something that was supposed to cause discomfort could bring someone so much pleasure.

~~~*~~~

Draco watched as Hermione tried not to squirm as she watched the sub in front of her get paddled. She was trying to remained composed and exude her usual stoicism, but he could tell she was quite affected. She swallowed several times, and her mask couldn’t conceal that the blush on her cheeks was now creeping down her neck. She was holding her skirt tightly in her fists, and he knew that it was providing an anchor for the tension she felt.

He decided to mess with her a little, to see how far this new daring version of Hermione would go. 

“Well, would you look at that,” he drawled in her ear from behind.

Hermione didn’t turn around or respond, so he decided to press a little harder. “Maybe you should cover your pure eyes, Granger.”

Hermione huffed and turned around. “You forget I was married for almost 5 years, I’m hardly pure!”

Draco smirked. “That’s not what _The Prophet_ says.”

“Since when does _The Prophet_ have their story straight?”

Draco put his hands on her exposed back, and he could feel the goose bumps forming under his hands. She shivered and it felt wonderfully empowering. “I’m impressed, you’re actually watching and not turning away. This is a big step for someone like you,” he said, pressing himself into her.

Hermione relaxed her back against his chest, and tilted her head back to talk to him over her shoulder. “You obviously know nothing about me.”

“I know enough. I know that you would never volunteer to do a scene like this in front of all of these people,” he said, looking down at her.

Hermione turned around, her mask just barely hiding the fire in her eyes as she met Draco’s stare. 

“Is that another dare?”

He nodded. “Yes. I dare you to let me spank you in front of everyone.”

Hermione glanced around and then looked back up at him. “Not here, there are too many people, perhaps in a smaller room,” she said. 

Draco smirked. “How about over there, there are less people,” he said motioning his head towards the back. 

“Fine,” she said defiantly.

“All right,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her towards another corridor where bedrooms had been set up as private playrooms for the party.

~~~*~~~

When Draco led Hermione into one of the private bedrooms, she had to take a deep breath. Her eyes immediately fell onto a set of tall black iron bars situated across from each other. There was one iron loop hanging near the top of each bar, and beside the bars there was a table filled with instruments. Further behind the bars, there was a large bed. In the far corner, there was couple engaged in play. The man was bent over a wooden bench, his arse up in the air, his hands shackled to the sides, while a woman dressed in all leather and high-heeled boots stood over him with a blue leather whip.

Hermione took a big gulp. 

“You sure you’re ready for this, Granger, you can back out now if you like,” Draco whispered from behind her.

Hermione shook her head and watched as Draco walked to the table, considering the various restraints available. There was hard rope, soft rope, scarves, leather cuffs, furry cuffs, handcuffs, and chains. He seemed to be in deep contemplation about what to use. 

As he thought about what he wanted to use for binding her to the bars, Hermione noticed that the room was beginning to fill, and a small crowd was gathering at a respectful distance in a semi-circle around her and Draco. Many gentlemen and some ladies had taken seats where they could, most were standing and waiting patiently. Others had brought their submissives with them to watch. Even the other couple playing in the corner had stopped their play and had come over to join the others. There was a palatable anticipation as they watched Draco pull one of her arms towards him in preparation for the scene.

Hermione looked at the growing crowd anxiously. “Where did all of these people come from?” she whispered as Draco began to try out different restraints on her wrists.

“They came to see you, of course. You’re the most bewitching woman here, and we’re all very eager to see you…play,” he said with a devilish smile as he pulled her right arm up to tie her wrist with soft rope. 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to try this in the other room. I can’t do this…there are too many people watching!”

“What happened to that Gryffindor courage you’re always so keen on showing off?” he whispered as he tightened up her left wrist and secured it. 

“Take me down now,” she demanded.

Draco studied her for a moment. “Would it help if you couldn’t see them?”

Hermione stared at him, and then past him to the crowd peering at her in excited curiosity and anticipation. She wondered how good her mask was at concealing her identity. She silently gasped, suddenly aware that her hair could be a dead give a way if became untied or dishevelled in some way. 

Not many witches had a full head of bushy curly brown hair, and hers was featured more than once a week lately in _The Prophet._

“Don’t mess with my hair,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Just make sure my hair stays the way it is!”

“I’m about to do absolutely wicked things to your body in a room full of people and all you can think of is your hair?”

“Draco…” 

“All right, I won’t touch your hair!” he said, shaking his head at her.

“And yes, please blindfold me or something, quickly, before I change my mind!”

~~~*~~~

Those gathered in the main playroom were growing restless and there was an audible buzz about a scene that was taking place in another area of the Manor. Lucius noticed that one by one, and sometimes in groups of two and three, people were politely excusing themselves to make their way around the back corridor to the smaller bedrooms he had designated for private play.

He followed slowly, standing near the entrance for moment before stepping forward to make his way through the crowd. And that’s when he saw her—the witch he had been eyeing all night. 

Lucius almost dropped his wine glass when he realised that she was indeed here to play and not just watch. Oh what a treat this would be. A mixture of pride and jealousy suddenly struck him when he saw who she had entrusted herself to for the scene. 

Draco.

Lucius wasn’t sure how his son had snuck into his party, but he couldn’t say that he wasn’t somewhat pleasantly surprised to see that the boy had taken an interest in the lifestyle. At least he didn’t have to worry about hiding what he had been doing at the Manor from Draco any more. 

Lucius restrained himself from rolling his eyes as he watched his son survey the room to see who was watching them. As a child, Draco had never been much for subtlety or shying from the spotlight. He had always been quite comfortable with being the centre of attention, and even now he appeared energised by the crowd’s focused attention on them. 

Lucius could tell that Draco was clearly aware that at this moment he had the admiration and envy of many of the dominants there, who would have given a limb for such a witch under their control. His posture, calculated movements, and watchful eye revealed him to be proud and boastful. He wanted everyone to know that the woman they were admiring was his witch…his submissive.

 _‘For now, Draco, but this is my party’_ Lucius thought with a smirk.

He watched as his son took off her skirt, leaving her in an excellent tight fitted corset that highlighted every curve and her beautiful chest. Draco ran his hand over her skin, causing her to visibly gasp and shiver. 

He kissed her softly on the mouth and whispered something in her ear before gliding his hand across her skin towards her arse. She squirmed so wantonly that it made Lucius’ cock jump. Draco drew his hand back and smacked her firmly on the rear, causing her whimper softly. He whispered something else in her ear and she said ‘yes’. He smacked her arse once more, this time louder, which elicited another whimper that echoed throughout the room.

Lucius’ gaze shifted to the crowd and he noticed that the scene was visibly affecting many of the dominants and especially the submissives, who were fidgeting in their own arousal watching Draco toy with her. 

He felt his own desire quickly rising from the scene in front of him, and had to remind himself twice that he was the Dungeon Master and it would be inappropriate and damn amateurish to show obvious interest in any particular scene; particularly since this one involved his not so well concealed son. 

He glared at Draco and then when he could bear no more, he cleared his throat and raised his glass to signal he was about to speak. 

“Ladies and gentleman, I will remind you that this is a private play area, and while I’m sure this couple appreciates your interest in their scene, the main exhibition for the night will be starting in the ballroom shortly. I have to ask that you exit at this time to give these two some privacy.”

There were a few disappointed sighs and groans as people slowly tore their eyes away from Draco and his submissive and shuffled out of the room to make their way to the ballroom.

Once the last person was gone, Lucius stepped outside of the room and summoned Tizzy. She appeared immediately. 

“Tizzy,” he drawled.

“Yessir, Master?” 

“Make sure you tell the Dungeon Commander that I may be indisposed for the next hour or so, and for him to assume control of the event. If I don’t appear for the rest of the night, make sure the party ends promptly at 3am. No one is to disturb us, is that clear?”

“Yessir, Master Lucius.”

The house else disappeared and Lucius looked around quickly before stepping back inside and locking the door. 

Draco was talking to the beautiful witch, whispering in her ear as he caressed her breasts. She was breathing heavily and nodding. 

Oh, he had to have her.

~~~*~~~

“I can’t believe I’m letting you touch me like this,” Hermione said, clearly struggling between her pride and pleasure.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“Well, I didn’t say that, but…”

“Don’t worry, Granger, what happens in this room, stays in this room. We never have to discuss it or do it again, if you don’t want to.” 

Hermione’s body seemed to relax and a small smile grew on her lips. “Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Draco reached up to caress the exposed skin right above her cleavage. He paused when he noticed a worry line growing on her forehead. “What is it?” 

“Was that your father speaking earlier?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” he answered, continuing to stroke her.

Hermione giggled. “I can’t believe he saw me like this.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think he knew it was you,” he said.

“Good,” she said. 

The door opened again, and then shut and locked. When Draco looked up, he saw that it was the man who had made the announcement. Of course he had known from the moment he spoke that it was his father. But, Draco had thought that Lucius had ushered the people out of the room to give him and Hermione some privacy. 

So why was Lucius still here? 

Perhaps he was wanted to confront Draco for crashing his perverted little party. If that was the case Draco had more than an earful for him. 

Or maybe he was here to stop them from going any further, his old prejudices flaring once more at correctly guessing that his only son was publicly engaging in sexual play with a Muggle-born.

Draco stared at his father curiously, waiting to see what he would say or do.

He stood frozen as Lucius removed his mask and took off his black cape, allowing his silver blond mane to fall over his shoulders before pulling it back and tying it up into make shift ponytail. 

Lucius motioned his head towards Hermione with a question on his face.

Draco removed his mask and they locked eyes as a quiet understanding passed between them.

Lucius wanted to play, but he didn’t want to take the witch from Draco, he just wanted to watch, and perhaps even join them.

Draco silently clapped his hand to his mouth. It was the most obscene thing his father had ever suggested since before the war, when such depravity was commonplace among Death Eaters at the Manor. That time seemed ancient now, and both he and his father had both changed considerably, well, except for the fact that Lucius converted the Manor into an oversized dungeon once a month.

Draco thought about the consequences, considering whether it would change their relationship. It didn’t take long for him to come to the conclusion that it would not change anything between them, and he nodded his acceptance. 

Lucius’ lip curled into a very slight smile as he silently mouthed one word.

_‘Who?’_

Draco smiled widely, which seemed to intrigue his father even more.

“There’s someone here with us, does that bother you?” he asked Hermione.

Hermione’s breath became short, and she didn’t respond immediately as she seemed to be silently contemplating Draco’s words.

“Is it someone you know?” she asked.

“Yes, very well,” Draco replied.

“Do you think…can we trust him?”

“Yes; he won’t say anything,” he said, trying not to snigger.

She slowly nodded. “I’ll hex you into oblivion if this gets out Draco, I swear I will.”

“All right, Granger,” Draco said, looking at his father, whose mouth dropped open in shock before quickly recovering and assuming his usual dignified expression.

Draco looked at Hermione and silently chuckled to himself. 

Already, this was shaping up to be a night he’d never forget, and it was only 8:45pm.


	4. Too Much of A Good Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The artwork at the end of this chapter was created in 2009 by Thanfiction. Notorious reputation and controversy aside, I still think he/she is a great artist and cherish this particular piece. I hope you enjoy it as well.

*  
*

Lucius watched with veiled excitement as his son untied Hermione’s corset string by string, spreading the bodice until it began to slip slowly down her body. He pulled it all the way down and helped her step out of it, remaining on bended knees as he planted kisses along her inner thigh. 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open as Draco’s hand glided toward her mound, where he began to play in the curls there, before slipping a finger inside of her. She scowled and then gasped, appearing to struggle between protest and pleasure. Lucius smiled when she finally gave in to her desire and let a soft moan escape. As Draco continued, Hermione began to twist in her restraints. Draco slowed down his ministrations to watch her struggle a bit more. 

“So wet for me, Granger,” he said, resuming his previous pace. 

“Oh... oh, Draco! What are you−” 

“Want more?” 

“Yes!” 

“I can’t hear you,” he said, pausing once more to look up at her. 

“I said, yes, keep doing that!” she said irritably. 

Lucius wrinkled his forehead at her bossy response. He stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back, observing as Draco continued to finger her. 

Lucius’ leather trousers were becoming quite restrictive with his growing arousal, but he told himself that he wouldn’t take them off, not just yet. 

Finally, Draco removed his fingers and stood up, smelling them. He was just was about to lick them off, when Lucius grabbed his hand. 

Draco raised an eyebrow as Lucius brought Draco’s fingers up to his nose so that he could smell Hermione’s scent. He nodded in approval, and let go of Draco’s hand before drawing closer to Hermione to put his own hand between her legs. 

She gasped in surprise.

~~~*~~~

Hermione knew this was not Draco’s hand. Draco’s hands were smoother and slightly smaller than the ones touching her now.

She froze, her entire body tensing with the realisation that she was allowing a complete stranger to molest her. 

But so what? She had been a good girl all of her life. Why did she always have to be so good, while other people, like Ronald Weasley, were allowed to have all the fun they wanted? He was seeing two women, and damn it, she was going to have a bit of fun herself, with two men, no less. Besides, it felt so good! 

She gave up the struggle to rationalise what was happening and moved her hips to try and increase the friction as the mysterious man continued to stroke her. When he began to explore her deeper, penetrating her with two rather large fingers, a wanton moan escaped her. He was being painstakingly slow in his ministrations, and it was driving her mad. 

A low chuckle made her pause, and she tried to listen harder to see if she could identify him, but he made no more sounds. After a few moments of his treatment, her body was ready for much more, but then he removed hand completely. She almost whimpered in frustration. 

Someone moved behind her. It had to be Draco, because he definitely was not the one in front of her. His hand slid up her bare back, making her shudder once again. He pulled on her braid. 

“Watch it, Draco! I told you not to mess with my hair,” she scolded. 

“You know, Granger, you haven’t been acting like a submissive at all this evening. Do you even know what a submissive is?” he asked, slapping her arse cheek harshly. 

“Oh! Of course I do,” she snapped back. 

“I don’t think I like your answer,” he said, smacking the same area once again, this time harder. 

“Draco! Stop that!” she said, twisting her wrists in her restraints. 

She heard whispering and then a soft ‘hmm-mm’ coming from Draco. 

“My ‘friend’ here is displeased with your behaviour. He thinks you need to be trained properly. Know what that means?” he said as the person in front of her began tracing one of her nipples.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” she said curtly. 

“It means you’re in trouble, Granger. He’s a bit more old school than I am, so I suggest that you keep your mouth shut unless asked a question.” 

“Or what?” Hermione asked defiantly.

~~~*~~~

Lucius continued to caress Hermione’s breast as he stared down at her naked form, her ample curves, watching in fascination as her body reacted to his caresses. He frowned upon hearing her smart-lipped responses to Draco.

Definitely in need of training. 

He reached out to caress the other breast and was pleased to see Hermione leaning into him as far as her restraints would allow. When he squeezed a nipple between his fingers, she yelped in response. 

“Or what, you ask? Or… you’ll be punished,” Lucius said. 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock. 

“Mr Malfoy?” 

“Yes?” Lucius said, slowly moving one hand down to her hip. 

“Oh! Oh my… Let me down! Let me down this minute!” she demanded. 

Lucius glanced at his son and nodded. Draco unfastened the soft ropes around her wrists, and Hermione immediately lifted her hands behind her head to pull the blindfold off. 

“I can’t believe you! Both of you! This is disgusting!” she said, looking back and forth between them as she bent over to pick her skirt up off of the floor to use as a cover for her body. 

“You think?” Draco asked. 

“Of course I do! I’m leaving this instant!” 

“You’re not going anywhere, Granger; just a few minutes ago, you were perfectly agreeable to this,” Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“That was before I knew you were letting _your father_ touch me!” she said, glaring at him. 

She began to walk towards the door when Lucius stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. She stopped, dropping her eyes to the floor in shame. 

“Please, Mr Malfoy, I just want to go home,” she said. 

Lucius drew closer to her, giving his best impression of vulnerability. “Am I really so awful?”

~~~*~~~

Hermione looked up, her eyes taking in Lucius Malfoy slowly. He had his shirt open, revealing a well-defined chest and toned abs. His tight leather trousers accentuated his impressive package and there was a whip of some sort on his hip.

He was incredibly hot. 

When he took steps towards her, closing the gap between them, Hermione found herself backing up to keep her distance from him. 

“No… I mean, you’re… it’s just that… it’s so inappropriate… and I can’t… I mean… I shouldn’t…” 

She stopped as she backed into something hard and felt the unmistakable bulge of a clothed erection pressed against her arse. 

“You’re babbling, Granger,” Draco said, reaching around her to pull the skirt out of her hands. He threw it to the side and then pulled her arms back behind her as he began to nibble on her neck. 

“This is so wrong,” Hermione whispered, trying not to moan as she looked up at Lucius who was now pressing himself against her. 

“Yes, and that’s what makes it so much fun,” he said. He leaned in quickly to claim her mouth. His kiss was hungry and demanding, and she squirmed despite Draco’s stronghold on her arms. Using her tip-toes, she strained up to kiss him back every bit as fiercely but was pulled back by Draco who was now biting into her neck. 

Draco let go of her arms and grabbed her arse, pressing his erection into her more firmly. Hermione pushed back against it, using her hips to feel his length. 

Draco finally released her neck and withdrew his hold on her. She heard a zipper and the sound of trousers dropping behind her. Lucius took advantage of the momentary chance to have her to himself and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so he tongue could probe deeper. Hermione moaned into his mouth and raised her arms up to wrap around his neck. 

They continued to kiss heatedly for quite some time until they both had to break for air. Breathless and stunned that she had just snogged Lucius Malfoy, she was caught off guard by the feel of Draco’s naked body pressing against her back. Only this time, his bare hard cock was poking her backside like a weapon. 

Lucius gave her a small smile. “You know, I do think you’re the first Mu-Muggle-born I’ve ever kissed, perhaps I’ve been missing out,” he said, trying to play off his almost slip-up. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She heard his gaffe, but it only motivated her more to stay. She’d show him what a Muggle-born could do. 

“I believe you have,” she replied. 

“Are you going to be a good whore for us tonight?” he asked, looking down his nose at her expectantly. 

Hermione gaped up at Lucius as if he had grown another head. 

“A what? I’m no—”

She was cut off in mid-sentence when she felt a sharp stinging sensation from an uncompromising force colliding with her left cheek. Lucius had smacked her! She heard a low ‘tsk tsk’ coming from Draco in her ear when she recovered. 

Hermione could only stare at the man before her in shock. Why did Lucius Malfoy smacking her just make her ten times wetter than she had been all night? 

“Did you think that your arse was the only thing that could be slapped?” he drawled calmly. “Now, I asked you a question.” 

Hermione opened her mouth and found that, for once, she was at a loss for words. She nodded in response instead. 

“That’s not an answer,” Lucius said, lifting the whip on his belt and letting it snap in the air. 

“Father, do you mind? She’s my partner for evening,” Draco said as if offended, wrapping his arms around her protectively. 

“Then you need to instruct her on how to act in the presence of a dominant,” he said, giving Draco a cold stare. 

“She’s learning,” Draco said, leaning over to kiss Hermione’s cheek before turning her around to face him. 

“Aren’t you?” he asked, staring at her. 

Hermione swallowed, and nodded. Draco raised his eyebrows in silent demand. “Uh, yes, Draco,” she said softly, feeling quite out of sorts. 

“Now, you’ve been talking back, and that’s unacceptable. You must be punished.” 

Lucius started and Draco looked up at him. “Father, please… I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time.” 

“Very well, Draco, I’ll wait… for now,” he said taking a seat across from the bed. 

Draco led Hermione over to the bed and sat down. “Lay over my knee,” he said. 

Hermione stared down at his knee before hesitantly bending over, holding on to his other leg as she did. 

He began to smack her arse cheeks, softly at first, and then more firmly, until they were hot from the heat of his palm. The pain was intense, but it was creating another fire that made her writhe in response. 

“I’m sorry… I’ll be good, promise,” she whined and moaned, pushing herself against in an effort to dry hump his leg. 

“Does this arouse you? It’s supposed to be punishment.” 

She turned her head to look at him guiltily. No response was needed, Draco already knew. 

“How about this? If you talk back or act disrespectful anymore, you’ll have to sit in the corner, and you won’t get any cock until you learn how to behave. Sound fair?” 

It sounded absolutely archaic and degrading, but Hermione couldn’t deny how much this game aroused her, so she nodded. 

“Good girl,” he said, sliding a finger inside of her. 

“Now I believe my father asked you a question… are you going to be a good whore for us tonight?” 

“Yes, Draco,” Hermione said eagerly, grinding on his finger. 

When he withdrew his finger, she sighed in disappointment. “You’re really wound up, aren’t you?” 

Hermione nodded, her eyes feasting on Draco’s erect cock. He sat her up on the bed, running his hands along her back. “Why don’t you give us a sample, Granger. Show us just how hot you are for us; play with yourself.” 

Hermione glanced over at Lucius and then to Draco before laying back on the bed. She spread her legs wide, so they both could see, and closed her eyes, imagining herself at home in bed where she usually masturbated. 

Slipping a finger inside herself, she thought of her fantasy the night before, and then slipped in another one. As she grew more comfortable, her hips became freer, and she moved against her fingers wantonly, not caring that she was being watched. She moaned as she used her other hand to play with her breasts. 

She became aware of harsh breathing and a squishy sound close to her ear, and opened her eyes to find Draco wanking over her face. It only made her want to come harder for him, and she increased her pace. She added a third finger and looked over to see Lucius massaging his cock through his trousers, watching them. 

When she finally cried out her release, she felt warm droplets of come spatter across cheek as Draco released on her face. 

And it was only 9:57pm.

~~~*~~~

Hermione’s eyes creaked open with vague awareness. Apparently she had temporarily passed out and was now lying on a bed. She raised her hand to her cheek, noting that Draco had cleaned her face. When she opened her eyes fully, she saw that Lucius was completely starkers like his son, and they were sitting on either side of her, staring down at her with lust in their eyes.

“On your knees, Granger,” Draco ordered as he stood up. 

Hermione rose from the bed and slowly sank to her knees before Draco. Lucius rose from the bed and stood beside him. She looked up at both of them standing over her. She rather liked the view. 

“That’s good. Now get us off, both of us,” Draco demanded. 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“You figure it out, but whatever it is, get to it quick, or there will be real punishment.” 

Hermione stared at the two perfect cocks jutting out before her face, and she did the first thing that came to mind. She leaned in to take as much of Lucius in her mouth as possible, while grabbing Draco’s cock and stroking it. Lucius put his hand on top her head to guide her mouth over him and he threw his head back, thrusting his hips to assist her. 

When she felt she had sufficiently given Lucius’ cock enough attention, she switched to Draco’s, licking his entire length and his bollocks before working back up to the head to take it into her mouth. Making sure not to neglect Lucius, she wrapped as much of her small hand as she could around his girth. 

She alternated between sucking them both for quite some time until she finally settled on Draco’s cock. After she had given it considerable attention, she felt his entire body stiffen, and his grip on her head tightened as came down her throat. 

Hermione almost gagged, but managed to swallow it. Draco pulled her mouth off of him and staggered back onto the bed, while Lucius squeezed her jaw open so that he could fuck her mouth once more. 

He took his time, directing her head movements with measured control as he pumped her mouth slowly until, at last, he let out a series of short grunts under his breath and stilled. 

When Hermione finished swallowing his seed, she cleaned the last traces of his semen from his cock. 

He lifted her chin so that she could look up at him. “What do you say?” 

“Thank you?” 

“Good, you are learning,” he said, letting her chin go and going to the bed to lie down. 

When Hermione climbed into bed to rest, it was 11:10pm.

~~~*~~~

They all napped for some time, with Hermione lying in between them, dozing in and out of sleep until she felt big strong hands pulling her on top of an even bigger body. She looked down to see Lucius underneath her.

“Sit up for me,” he ordered. 

She adjusted herself on top of him, moving her legs on either side of his hips while he ran his hands up her body, outlining her figure, his eyes slowly perusing every flaw and asset. 

“You’re quite lovely, you know that?” 

Hermione felt her whole body flush under his stare. “Thank you, Mr Malfoy.” 

“Stop that; call me Lucius. We’re well enough acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?” he asked with a small smile. 

Hermione returned his smile and nodded. 

His smiled faded as he pushed her body back against his hard cock. 

“Ride me,” he ordered in a gruff voice that reminded her of the old Lucius Malfoy she once feared. 

She rose up to position herself over him, slowly easing her way onto his hard length. He was large, and she wasn’t used to anyone quite that big, so she started slow, carefully sinking until she could go no further before pausing to get used to his girth. She rotated her hips gingerly to loosen herself up and then rose to slide down again. 

Lucius grunted with each twist and rise of her hips, his face reflecting satisfaction with the view of Hermione pleasuring herself with his cock. He allowed her to control the motion of it for a few minutes before grabbing her hips. Holding her steady with his hands, he lifted her and then pushed her down onto him once again. 

Hermione was silently sobbing and moaning with every thrust. She threw her head back as she rode him fearlessly, no longer caring about the dull pain inside of her. It was a good faint pain she didn’t want to end. 

When she felt him lifting her off of him completely, she protested. But he cut her off and sat up, ordering her on her hands and knees. Wanting to feel him inside of her again, Hermione quickly obeyed, allowing him to draw her hips back up into the air as her face hovered over the edge of the bed. 

Lucius entering her quickly; this time, Hermione took him much more easily. With every thrust, she pushed back, giving him as good as she got. 

As he rode her, she felt her hair being pulled once more as Draco came around to stand in front of her. 

He pulled her face up toward his cock, striking her across the face with it. 

“Open wide, Granger,” he said, peering down at her. 

Lucius leaned over and smacked her arse as he set a fast pace that signalled his approaching his orgasm. Draco held her face in his hands and began to push himself into her mouth as she fought to hold herself steady in spite of the onslaught behind her. 

Draco groaned as he came in her mouth, releasing her head. She let it fall to the bed as Lucius continued to pound away. When he began to dig his nails into her skin, she knew he was close and worked herself onto him so that they could come together. 

As her orgasm broke, Lucius pulled her back onto him and froze as he released himself deep inside of her. Hermione lay bent over like that for what felt like a half an hour before the strong hands that had been holding her hips were pulling her on top of him to rest. 

She settled onto Lucius’ chest, running her hands over the taut pale skin as she tried to rid the last of the taste of Draco’s come in her mouth and stretch out the cramp in her jaw. 

When she fell asleep on top of Lucius, it was 12:37am.

~~~*~~~

When Hermione awoke, she was lying face down on the bed beside Draco, who was staring at her with an amused expression on her face.

“We’re not done here, Granger,” he said as his hand snaked over her back and arse. He pulled one leg away from the other, spreading her wide. Hermione tensed when she felt his finger slowly pushing its way into her arsehole. 

Lucius arose and then sank onto the bed once more, muttering something under his breath that made her arse go slick with a warm gel substance. She felt her hair being pulled back again as Draco replaced his finger with the head of his cock. 

He worked himself into her arse slow, taking careful, almost tender strokes before stopping every now and then to check on her. Hermione was surprised at how much she enjoyed the sensation of being filled back there. There was a little pain, but much more pleasure than she could have imagined. She pushed herself back onto Draco’s cock and asked for more. But he stopped. She whimpered and tried to wiggle her hips over his cock to continue when he slapped her arse sharply. 

“Wait a second, sit up,” he said. 

Hermione attempted to sit up with Draco still in her arse. When he wrapped his arms around her and pulled them both down onto their sides, she groaned at the sensation of him almost slipping out. But he didn’t, and now he was moving inside of her again, but bringing her leg up as he did so. 

She opened her eyes when she felt a second body move in front of her. Lucius was staring at her lustfully. Once again, he took her mouth and slid the head of his cock over her clit, causing Hermione buck back against Draco even harder. 

Hermione noticed that Lucius and Draco were being very careful not to touch each other in this position. She would have laughed out loud if she weren’t so nearly overwhelmed. When Lucius began to push his cock against her entrance, Hermione gripped his shoulder and looked up into his eyes. 

“Too much,” she whispered. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I don’t think I can handle it…” she gasped as Draco pushed himself into her arse once again. 

“Come now, you’ve been wonderful so far,” Lucius said in a sinfully seductive voice. “Show us what a big girl you are,” he whispered. He kissed her temple and eased himself inside of her. 

Hermione was caught between reality and the surreal. Her thoughts scattered and she gasped and made odd sounds as they both moved inside of her. Draco’s thrusts would push and grind her onto Lucius’ cock, and when Lucius pushed forward, Draco would move again. 

“Tell us, what it’s like to be stuffed full of cock like this?” Draco asked, pulling her head back as he drove into her again. 

“Feels… feels goo-good,” she stammered as they continued to push her back and forth between them. 

She came again and again as they worked her over until finally Draco bit into her shoulder with his release, holding her still as Lucius continued to fuck her until he finally let out a loud groan and rolled over, panting, beside her. 

He probably wouldn’t have cared to know that his guests were beginning to leave because it was 2:52am.

~~~*~~~

Hermione was startled out of her dreamless sleep by Draco pinning her down by the arms to the bed, his eyes boring into hers.

“Are you tired?” she asked, surprised that she still was aroused by the prospect of him screwing her, even now. 

“Granger, I’m about to fuck your brains out,” he said, releasing her wrists and rising up on his knees. Hermione didn’t like the way he was eyeing her and began to crawl away from him. 

He pulled her back by the legs and spread her open, taking one of her legs and raising it up against his shoulder before burying himself inside of her with one swift movement. 

She winced; she was quite sore, and Draco wasn’t being gentle at all. He pulled at her leg and began thrusting into her until he was out of breath. 

“Merlin, you’re going to kill me,” he rasped. 

“You don’t have to fuck me into the mattress, you know,” she said, gasping. 

He slowed down his movements and easing into her more gently. Supporting himself with his forearms, he began driving into her once more at the original pace, making Hermione cry out and writhe underneath him in both pain and pleasure. 

When he couldn’t keep the pace any longer, he stilled, and collapsed on top of her. 

“I’m not going to come,” he said. “I’m tired… need to rest for a bit,” he said, slipping out of her and falling over onto his back. 

Hermione immediately began to drift to sleep only to be awoken by Lucius’ head between her legs. He was alternating between sticking his tongue as far into her as he could and licking her clit. 

Hermione began to thrash and grind herself against his face, which made him chuckle. Draco lifted her arms and held her wrists tightly together over her head, watching as his father feasted on her. He seemed to enjoy the sight, and leaned over to fondle her breasts to add to her delirium. 

When Hermione screamed out, Lucius quickly moved up to climb on top of her. 

“Lucius, please, I’m sore,” she whined. 

“Shhh... it’s all right, dear, I’ll take it easy,” he said, stroking her cheek as he entered her slowly and gently. “You’ll have to forgive my son, he thinks that fucking hard means one is fucking well.” 

Hermione looked over at Draco, who appeared to be sleeping.

“He hasn’t learned,” Lucius continued as he slowly slid out of her a little before slipping back in just as carefully as before. “That it’s not about how hard you do it, but about how thoroughly you do it. 

“Sometimes it takes someone with a bit more experience to do it right,” he said, hitting a sensitive spot inside of her. 

Suddenly, it felt as if there was a river between Hermione’s legs. She tightened her legs around Lucius’ waist, urging him in deeper. “Mmmm… yes, oh!” 

“Do you like that, Hermione?” he whispered, gazing down into her eyes. 

“Yes, Lucius, yes! Please…” she cried, digging her nails into his back. 

He continued his pace, not letting her drive him. “Tell me, are you surprised that a man old enough to be your father can you make you feel like this?” 

“Oooh, Lucius… oh, ooooh!” 

“You didn’t think I would last this long, did you, slut?” he said, driving into her harder as he quickened his stroke. 

“Noo…ooh… nooooo,” she gasped. 

“Are you going to be a good little girl and come for me?” 

“Yes! I’m coming!” Hermione cried, looking up at him with wild eyes. 

“Good girl, come for Daddy…” he growled. 

“Oooh, Daddy, yes… I’m coming!” 

“Yes, come for me!” 

“I’m coming, Daddy... I’m coming!” she shouted out as she came. Lucius climaxed shortly after, falling onto her to rest. Hermione had to turn her head to the side as she tried to catch her breath. 

They lay there for several moments before Lucius finally slipped out of her. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing her forehead. 

Hermione looked up through dazed eyes to see Draco watching her with a strange expression. 

“What?” she asked wearily. 

“You dirty minx,” he said. “Daddy?” 

“You’re one to talk,” she said. 

Draco began to inch over toward her, his erection growing. 

Hermione scooted away from him. “No… no more.” 

“What do you mean, we have all day tomorrow to sleep in… and play,” he said, flashing a wicked smile. 

Hermione sat up in disbelief. “Are you serious? What’s wrong with you two? Are you insatiable?” 

“Granger, save the speech. You’re not going anywhere, and that’s final, now come over here and suck on me until I get hard again.” 

As Draco pulled her up to take him into her mouth once more, Hermione felt large fingers penetrating her arse once more. 

Could she take anymore? Was it physically possible for her to get off one more time? 

When Draco finally came in her mouth again, it was a little after 4:00am.

~~~*~~~

They were both snoring. Lucius just barely, Draco a little louder. She had to be careful so as not to wake them. She was very sore, and she doubted that she could make a run for the door, but she would do her best to walk as quickly as possible.

She slid down a bit, trying not to disturb Lucius’ hold around her body. But there was enough of a gap, and he appeared deep in sleep so she lifted his arm and gently placed it on his own body. Draco’s arm would be more difficult; he had a firm grip on her hip and squeezed it possessively when she slid down to remove Lucius’ hand. 

She leaned into him, which made him relax his grip and then she carefully slid her hand underneath his to lift his arm. She was almost halfway out of the bed when Draco grabbed her by her hair. 

“Just where do you think you’re going?” 

“I have to go to the loo,” she stammered. 

“Around the corner on the right, come right back,” he mumbled before turning over. She watched him a few moments until his snoring returned, and then she gathered her clothes. 

She’d been right, she was sore as hell, and winced as she tiptoed out. 

Tizzy appeared right outside the door. 

“Is you all right? Where’s Master Lucius and Master Draco?” 

“They’re sleeping… they shouldn’t be disturbed,” Hermione whispered. 

“Oh, all right then, I’s been waiting out here wondering if they was okay. The party is over.” 

Hermione nodded. “I’ll just be going home now, but I’d like to leave a note.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tizzy said, conjuring up a quill and pad. 

Hermione wrote down her message and then limped toward the front entrance and outside, so that she could Apparate home.

~~~*~~~

When Draco awoke, he sat up abruptly, seeing only his father beside him. Hermione was gone, and he suddenly felt very dirty. He quickly arose and got dressed before taking one last look at the bed and at his father.

It would be impossible to confront the man now about his perverted parties. Draco shook his head as he thought of what he and his father had done. He inwardly groaned as he thought of seeing Hermione at work on Monday. She would probably sooner eat flobberworms than ever go out with him again. 

An empty feeling washed over him as he realised he would no longer be able to eat lunch with her or drop by to tease her. She really had been the bright spot in his day, and he had just ruined that. 

When he walked out, Tizzy rushed up to him. 

“Master Draco!” 

“Hello, Tizzy… I think I’ll be leaving now,” he said with fatigue. 

“I’s got a message for you,” she said with excitement. 

“Oh?” he said, trying not to get his hopes up. 

“Yessir, Miss Hermione Granger left this for you,” she said, handing him a piece of parchment. 

Draco slowly took the note in his hand, almost afraid to read it. 

But when he opened it and began to read, a grin grew on his face. He read it over three times to make sure he had it committed to memory. 

 

_Draco,_

_Give your father my regards and tell him that I really enjoyed the party; in fact, I found the experience quite enlightening._

_Sorry I had to leave, but despite what people say, you really can have too much of a good thing… and believe me, it was very good. I trust what happened will stay between us, never to be shared with anyone else. I also trust you to burn this note as soon as you have read its contents._

_See you on Monday. We’re still on for lunch, yes?_

 

Draco threw the note in the air and cast an ‘Incendio’ with his wand. The parchment burst into flames and disintegrated before him. 

“Tizzy, say goodbye to my father for me, and tell him thanks,” he said, walking towards the entrance. 

“For what, Master Draco?” 

Draco turned and smiled. 

“Everything.” 

 

 

[](http://s289.photobucket.com/user/SoftObsidian74/media/twomuch.jpg.html)  



	5. More Than A One Night Stand

Hermione had a restful weekend after the party. She had been very sore after spending all night with Lucius and Draco, but her body recuperated amazingly well. By the time Monday arrived, there was a fresh spring in her step. The power she held that night over both Draco and Lucius, despite her submissive position, had worked like a magical elixir. She felt beautiful, sexy, and more alive than she had in years.

More than a few witches and wizards threw curious glances her way when she arrived at the Ministry. The usual whispers and stares didn’t bother her in the least. She put an extra swivel to her hips and flipped her curly mane as she made her way to the employee lounge for her morning tea. She wanted to catch up with Draco to confirm whether they were still on for their usual lunch appointment. 

Grabbing _The Daily Prophet_ , she skipped the gossip about her and Ron, and went straight to the business section, when someone plopped down right beside her. 

It was Emily, one of the busiest busybodies in her office. Aside from obligatory pleasantries, the woman rarely spoke to Hermione, however, she was infamously known for talking _about_ Hermione and everyone else. Hermione was at a loss about why Emily would want to speak to her, but prepared herself for anything. 

“Hermione! How are you?”

“Ah, fine, Emily. How are you?” Hermione asked guardedly. 

“I’m terrific! It’s been so long since we’ve had a chat.”

“Have we _ever_ had a chat?”

Emily laughed. “Well we definitely should chat more often.” 

“Right,” Hermione said a clipped voice.

“How are you doing?” Emily asked with a wide and predatory smile.

“You’ve already asked me that. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Well, you look more than fine, I’d say. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look as if you’ve met someone.”

“Really? How’s that?” Hermione asked coyly, looking up to see many curious eyes watching for her reaction.

“Just a guess… your skin, your eyes; you’re simply glowing!” 

Hermione restrained herself from drawing back her hand as Emily covered it with her own. The woman was about to ask another nosy question when one of her mouthy friends entered the lounge.

“Emily! Come here,” her friend called from across the lounge.

“Oh, have to run! Talk to you soon, Hermione. Let’s do lunch sometime!” Emily said with a cheery smile, rising quickly to cross the room to meet her friend. 

They began to whisper animatedly. Hermione strained to hear why there were so many gasps and ‘are you certain’ remarks being uttered as a third, and then a fourth, woman joined the conversation. She was sure she heard the name ‘Malfoy’ and ‘party’ But just as she slid forward to better eavesdrop, the Deputy Director, Simon Witherspoon, entered the room, sending the gossiping witches scattering like bedazzled fairies. 

Witherspoon smiled at Hermione before going to the counter to fix himself some tea. Hermione noticed the clock on the wall. Draco was nowhere in sight, and it was five past nine; she needed to get to work.

~~~*~~~

Hermione settled into her usual routine, reading and answering urgent owls, when she noticed an emerald green envelope nearly buried underneath her usual post. It sported a fancy crest on the back that seemed encrusted in gold. She broke it carefully and began to read.

 

_Ms Granger,_

_I hope you are well and are feeling rested. This is not my usual custom, but I wanted to inquire about your well-being and to request the honour of your presence for dinner at the Manor. I can assure you that it looks quite different from your previous visits._

_I was hoping you could join me tonight, but if you have plans, perhaps you can return this owl with a date that is more suitable to your liking._

_I look forward to your reply._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

 

Hermione smiled to herself, feeling some measure of satisfaction that Lucius didn’t consider her a one night shag, or a slag he could just use and toss out. She wrote an acceptance to his invitation, calling for the owl and offering it a treat. As she watched it fly away, she begin to consider whether Lucius was being sincere or, if perhaps, this was something that he engaged in regularly with the women who attended his parties. 

The sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted her thoughts. 

“Hermione…” the voice drawled.

Hermione tried not to look too pleased as she tamed her smile to greet Draco, who was standing at her office door. 

“Yes?” she asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Um…” Draco cleared his throat again. “Would you like to have lunch with me today?” His voice came out slightly strained and his face appeared to be struggling to retain its usual cool aloofness.

Hermione let out a small laugh, hoping to assuage any unease he felt. “Since when is lunch so formal, Draco?”

Draco’s face flushed and he temporarily scowled at her. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, here.”

Hermione put her finger up to her mouth, as if in contemplation. “I see...”

Draco’s face became tight and he looked as if he were about to call it off when she sat up and gave him a warm smile. 

“Yes, I’d love to have lunch with you, Mr Malfoy,” she said in an exaggerated formal tone to mock his. 

Draco frowned. “Don’t call me that. It makes me sound like…”

“Your father?” Hermione asked silkily.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is noon good for you?” she asked in a casual voice, trying to ignore the butterflies beginning to flutter in her stomach.

“Yes,” he said, giving her a brief small smile before turning away awkwardly and closing the door behind him. 

Hermione smiled in excitement.

~~~*~~~

The morning flew by without incident but when lunchtime approached Hermione had to stop her reading. She could barely concentrate; her thoughts kept returning to Draco. She had no idea what lay ahead for their relationship. But if the way he had been acting when he had asked her to lunch was any indication; this was going to be more than just their usual meet up.

She didn’t even have to leave her office to meet him; Draco was standing outside of her door when she opened it. Curious eyes, that normally didn’t pay the two any mind, were suddenly watching their interaction with great interest. 

“You ready?” he asked, his voice thick with what sounded like nerves.

She nodded, leading the way out towards their usual spot in the cafeteria.

“Actually… I was thinking we’d catch a bite outside of the office today,” he offered.

Hermione stopped and turned slowly. “Well, that sounds lovely,” she said, keenly aware they were definitely entering into new territory now.

“How about that new French restaurant up the street?” Draco suggested. “They serve lots of… er- Muggle and Wizarding dishes, alike,” he said clumsily as if he wasn’t sure if he was being offensive.

Hermione tried to hide her amusement at his obvious nervousness, touched that he cared enough to consider it. She glanced around and noticed several witches peering up at them. Typical.

Hermione exhaled when they finally left the building. It was nice to be outside, in the sun. They walked along the cobblestone in complete silence for several minute before Hermione began to wonder what was on Draco’s mind. 

“Look, Hermione…” Draco finally said. “About what happened at the party…” 

Hermione turned her head to regard him, her face tight with apprehension. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said quickly. “I just want you to know that… well, I don’t know what came over me, or my father.” He looked quite ashamed of himself. 

Hermione scoffed. “I was there as a willing participant. It’s not as if you forced me.”

“Yes, but we were rather _forceful,_ to say the least,” he said with a sour expression. “And, honestly, I’ve never done anything remotely that perverse in my life.”

Hermione felt her face grow hot as she thought about the evening and everything they had done. “Neither have I.”

“You must think that we’re complete deviants,” he continued.

Hermione giggled and nodded. “Yes…”

Draco winced.

“But so am I… I enjoyed almost every minute of it,” she reassured.

Draco frowned. “Almost?”

“Well, it was just too much, Draco. A girl can only stand so much shagging in one night,” she said in exasperation.

Draco sighed in relief. “You know, you’re taking this far better than I had imagined. I thought you wouldn’t want to come near me.”

“On the contrary,” Hermione said. “I’d like to get to know you better. It’s not every day I engage in such activities.”

Draco gave a small smile, an uncertain look still on his face. 

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Draco, we shared something very special and it would be a mistake to turn it into something shameful that kept us from getting to know each other. Don’t you agree?”

Draco stopped in his tracks to look at their joined hands. “Yeah. I do. You know, you really are one of a kind, Hermione.”

Hermione smirked. “And don’t you forget it. Now, where is this restaurant?”

~~~*~~~

As they ate, Draco relaxed considerably, falling into his familiar, flirtatious charming way. Hermione enjoyed receiving this type of attention from him, and wondered whether there was a future for them, and how Lucius would fit into all of this. But it was too soon to dwell on that now, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.

After lunch, Draco walked Hermione back to her office. Amidst the stares of curiosity, he lifted her hand, kissed it, and looked back at the onlookers with smug expression. 

There were murmurs and whispers when he followed her inside the office and closed the door behind him.

“You’re such a show off.”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “If they want a show, I have no problem giving them one.”

Hermione shook her head. “You shouldn’t have closed the door,” she said in mock fear. “They’re going to say all sorts of sordid things about us; it may even make the next edition of _The Prophet._ ”

Draco smirked. “And would that be such a terrible thing?”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you for lunch, Draco.”

He visibly swallowed. “Hermione…”

“Don’t,” she stopped him. “Don’t turn this into one of those weird awkward moments. We had a great lunch, and…”

“I’d like to take you to dinner…” he blurted out.

“Dinner?” she repeated, taken aback.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes… dinner.”

Flattered and slightly surprised, Hermione considered telling him that she was having dinner with his father, but then held back, not sure what type of reaction that would elicit. Instead, “I’m sorry, Draco, I already have dinner plans.”

Draco studied her face as if trying to discern whether she was lying. Something that looked like jealously flashed in his eyes and then it was gone. 

“Oh? With whom?” he asked quite boldly.

Hermione forced herself to look him in the eye. “Your father.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose high and then a strange smile appeared on his face. “Interesting… well, may the best man win,” he said, his eyes taking on a determined glow that Hermione found troubling.

She pursed her lips. This had to be nipped in the bud right away. She was not going to be a plaything the Malfoy men fought over to boost their overinflated male egos. 

“I’m not a trophy to be won, Draco,” she said firmly. 

“I know that. But, you can hardly see both of us for any reasonable amount of time, can you?” Draco challenged.

“I wasn’t under the impression that there were laws against seeing two blokes, even if they are father and son,” she replied flippantly.

A brief expression of shock crossed Draco’s usually cool features before his eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know better, _Granger_ , I’d say you’re trying to use my father and me to get back at the Weasel.”

Hermione sighed audibly. “That’s something you would do, _Malfoy,_ not me.”

Draco’s upper lip rose in tiny snarl. “You know what? Forget about dinner.”

“Fine,” Hermione said dismissively, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest.

“Fine!” Draco said, turning to walk out.

Hermione watched as he stopped at the door, his fists clenched at his sides. He appeared to be fighting with himself about something as his head bowed and shook in silent conversation. 

Abruptly, he turned to face her again. “Saturday, seven o’clock.”

“Pardon?” she asked.

“I’ll pick you up on Saturday at seven,” he said firmly, not giving her a chance to refuse as he opened the door and left. 

“Saturday at seven, it is,” she whispered with a small smile. 

As she returned to her seat, the patter of feet approaching her door grew louder. Hermione looked up just in time to see Abbey rushing into her office. She tried not to laugh at how predictable the other woman had become.

“Hermione!” Abbey exclaimed as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“Yes, Abbey?” Hermione asked, flipping through her report to indicate she was busy.

“What’s going on? Are you seeing Draco Malfoy? Like really _seeing_ him? I knew you two were having lunches, but… well, I assumed you and he were just friends,” Abbey prodded, waiting in anticipation for Hermione’s response.

“We _are_ friends, Abbey,” Hermione said, sparing only a cursory glance at the woman.

“Well, I don’t mean to pry, but it looks like you two are getting more serious,” she said with a question in her voice.

Hermione glanced up and frowned. “Abbey, I’m extremely busy, did you want something else?”

Abbey’s face fell. “Well, no, but…”

Hermione stared back at her blankly in uncomfortable silence, until Abbey was backing out slowly with a nervous smile. 

“I suppose, I’ll get back to work,” Abbey said with a fair amount of dejection.

“All right,” Hermione answered with a brief smile before returning to read her report. She waited until she heard the door shut to snigger.

~~~*~~~

When Hermione arrived home there were a dozen red roses on her doorstep. She smiled and read the note. They were from Draco, apologising for their spat and stating that he was looking forward to dinner with her on Saturday.

She read the note again, suddenly suspicious. Draco had too much pride and it was uncharacteristic of him to apologise for _anything,_ unless he was doing it to be strategic. She glanced down again and noticed a single white rose. It was from Lucius, and it was attached to a small white box containing a miniature Portkey in the shape of a golden key and a note. 

She smirked. Just last week she had been contemplating moving to another country because of her ruined social life, and now, she was seeing two men who had introduced her to her first threesome. This was shaping up to be quite a week. It was nice to be desired and for the first time, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she was finally over the heartbreak of her divorce.

However, as she searched for a vase for the roses, her previous doubts about whether she should be seeing either one of the Malfoy men resurfaced. She certainly wasn’t sure if it would be very wise. The scandal it would bring would be overwhelming, distracting, and…oh so satisfying.

Draco’s words about Hermione using him and his father to get back at Ron held a thread of truth. Not that she didn’t enjoy either one of them; she could very well picture herself seeing both men, at least until one of them mucked it up. 

But it was the image of Ron’s face at hearing the news of it that excited her the most. She wanted to feel the sweet karma of beating him at his own game. She’d prove to him, and the rest of the nosy bints who read _The Daily Prophet,_ that she was not a sexually repressed stick-in-the-mud that could be tossed aside! 

And so, as Hermione inhaled the wonderful scent of her roses and placed them on the dining room table, she made a conscious decision. She would not give into fear or doubt about scandal, instead, she would try her hand at seeing both Draco and Lucius for as long as it worked out. 

After tending to everyone else’s needs and following the rules, Hermione Granger was long overdue for more than a little fun. And damn it, she was going to have it.


	6. Getting Better Acquainted

When Hermione arrived by portkey on the Manor’s front porch, she hesitated before knocking. Her previous doubt about seeing both Malfoys, _especially_ Lucius, resurfaced. 

He was much older than she, and although she didn’t really know much about Draco, she knew only half as much about Lucius. Before she could think on it further, the door opened and she was greeted by Tizzy. 

“Hello, Missus. Master Malfoy’s been expectin’ you.” 

Hermione bowed her head respectfully to the elf, who looked bewildered at the gesture. When she entered, her eyes instantly scanned the foyer. Lucius had not been fibbing when he said the Manor retained no resemblance to its appearance the night of the party or even her previous visit during the war.

It was much brighter than she remembered. The décor was Tudor, in style and the walls had been returned to their original soft chamois colour. Antique furniture was arranged like something out of a Wizarding home magazine, and there were several gorgeous pieces of classic art decorating the walls. They ranged from priceless Muggle-looking pieces to distinctly Wizarding works, which moved in the most hypnotising ways. 

Hermione walked over to one that caught her eye, studying its detail.

~~~~~~~~~

Lucius watched as Hermione examined one of his favourite paintings. He had extended an invitation for dinner more out of curiousity to see if she would actually accept. He hadn’t really expected her to, but now that she was standing right here, in his home once more, he had to admit that it was nice seeing her again. He felt a sense of satisfaction that perhaps Hermione did not consider him a one night dare or a reckless mistake. Perhaps she was even interested in seeing what could develop between the two of them. Conscious he was thinking too far ahead, Lucius quickly extinguished the spark of hope that the thought inspired and quietly approached her.

“Do you like it?” he drawled from behind her. He watched in amusement as she jumped a little and then quickly managed to collect herself before turning around. 

“Yes, I love it. It reminds me a bit of Claude Monet, his later works, of course,” she replied. 

“Mmm, Monet, yes, the Muggle artist… I wouldn’t be surprised if he was influenced by our ancestors. This piece is by−” 

“Alisa Sorin, yes,” she continued. “I can see the difference. It’s subtle, but Sorin’s work is slightly darker; it sets her apart from other Impressionists. Are you sure that it wasn’t Sorin that was influenced by Monet?” 

Lucius chuckled, impressed by her knowledge of art. “Would you like a drink before dinner is served?” 

“I’d love one.” Hermione replied. 

He led her into the front parlour, extending his hand towards the couches to indicate she could take a seat, as he continued towards the bar. 

“You look very nice by the way,” he said, taking note of her rose-colored robes. He appreciated her simple but refined sense of style; she was understated, and she carried herself with confidence. Merlin, he loved a confident smart woman, it was far sexier than anything a woman could wear. 

Hermione scoffed, “Oh, this old thing?” 

Lucius sighed as her poured a glass of wine. He liked gracious women as well. “Can’t you just say ‘thank you’?” 

“Thank you, Mr Malfoy,” she singed as he handed her glass. He sat down beside her and they fell into a strange silence. Each was taking a sip in quiet contemplation, when Lucius finally spoke. 

“You’re probably wondering why I invited you here for dinner,” he started. 

Hermione nodded, “I am curious, yes.” 

Lucius still couldn’t believe what they had done. The memory of it was very surreal. Suddenly, he felt the need to explain his lifestyle and his behaviour from the previous night, but he wanted to make it clear he wasn’t apologising for any of it. He would never do that. 

“I don’t usually care what my guests think of me. My parties are by invitation only and everyone who attends is very open-minded and non-judgmental.” 

“I’m quite sure,” Hermione said cautiously. 

“I, and those I’ve come to associate with through “the lifestyle”, as some would call it, live by the creed of “live and let live”. But that being said, I know that what you saw and experienced here must have been quite shocking for you, on some level,” he said, watching for her reaction. 

She nodded. “Yes, I was a bit taken aback. I’ve never seen or experienced anything like that.” She blushed, and Lucius found himself captivated. In that moment, he was sure he wanted to see her blush for him more often, but under completely different circumstances. 

“You should know that I don’t normally engage in such activities with my son. In fact, I didn’t invite Draco,” he emphasised. 

Hermione smiled, “I knew it!” 

“May I ask how on earth he talked you into attending?” 

“Well, he didn’t really tell me what the event was, just that I should wear a corset and that it may have something to do with you,” she explained. 

Lucius shook his head, sighing. “I’d always known that Draco would find out eventually. I never could keep much from him; he was always too smart and prying for his own good.” 

“At least he likes to think so,” Hermione said with a smile. 

Seeing her brilliant smile this close to him brought back a strong flashback of what they had shared that night, and Lucius decided to take a calculated risk, to see just how Hermione would respond. He was a gambling man, and he wanted to know what, if any, possibilities remained for them. 

“I hope you didn’t find the experience too unpleasant,” he said, with a strong question in his voice, staring intently at her. Hermione appeared to be struggling not to smile too much in response, which excited him. 

Good. She had enjoyed it just as much. 

“No, not unpleasant at all. Just a bit overwhelming,” she finally managed to say. 

“I’m sure it would be much different if we were to play alone,” Lucius posed, taking another sip of wine while watching her. He loved watching a confident woman squirm. And it was even more exciting to watch Hermione struggle not to squirm under his stare. 

“Play?” she asked. “Is that what you call it?” 

“Yes, that is what we call it, but make no mistake about it, if you were to give yourself to me again, I would take your gift very seriously.” 

Lucius took in the way she shifted, the flush brightening in her cheek, and the way her eyes fluttered. It was intoxicating. She knew that he knew that she wanted to be alone with him in that way again. The tension between them was palatable and electric. He had to tell himself to calm down and not to push her on her back and ravish her right there. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said softly, taking a sip of her own wine as she tore her eyes away from his stare. 

Lucius hummed, which seemed to make her squirm even more. It was ever so slight, but he still saw it. 

Averting his eyes, he contemplated his son’s interest in her. “How long have you and Draco been seeing each other?” 

Hermione quickly turned her head, apparently caught off guard by the question. “Oh, Draco and I weren’t really seeing each other, just having lunches together, but now…” 

“Yes?” 

“Well, I should be completely up front with you. He is taking me out on Saturday,” she said slowly, watching him closely. 

Lucius nodded. Who was he fooling? Hermione was half his age, and she and Draco obviously had a connection. That much was clear from the party alone. “I see. It is as it should be. You two are well matched in age, occupation, and you have history…” 

“We all have history, Mr. Malfoy,” she said. 

Lucius studied his drink as he thought about _their_ history. It certainly wasn’t positive. He had done so much to hurt her, and her friends. All of the philanthropy and image maintenance he had done over the past five years would never erase that. It only made the possibility of pursuing anything more with her more improbable.

“Yes, I suppose we do,” he sighed. “And did you forget, I’d like for you to call me Lucius.” 

Hermione's eyes dropped as if suddenly remembering the position she had been in when Lucius had made the initial request. “Yes, of course, _Lucius._ ” 

At that moment, Tizzy popped in before them. “Dinner’s served…” 

Hermione appeared slightly relieved at the interruption, exhaling a little. Lucius stood abruptly and extended his hand to help her up from the couch. Her eyes were slightly glazed, from the spirits he assumed, and she accepted his hand, gratefully. 

“Do you like salmon?” he asked. 

“I love it,” she said with enthusiasm. 

“Excellent. Tizzy makes a divine salmon dish; it’s almost decadent,” he said as he led her to the Manor’s most lavish dining room.

~~~~~~~~~

As they ate dinner, Hermione and Lucius discussed their common interests in art, which led to a discussion on the fine arts, and surprisingly, a civil discussion about Muggle and Wizarding theatre.

While Tizzy brought out dessert, Hermione found herself beaming at Lucius. 

“Does that hurt?” Lucius asked with a chuckle. 

“What?” Hermione asked in confusion. 

“That smile. You’ve been wearing it since dinner began,” he pointed out with amusement. 

Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t realise… I must say, I’m very surprised, Lucius.” 

“By my knowledge of Muggle art and theatre?” he asked smugly. 

“By everything. You’re… much more than I thought,” she said hesitantly. 

Lucius smirked, “Yes, well, perhaps, if you and my son don’t work out, I can show you much, much more,” he said suggestively with a devilish smirk that made her knickers dampen. Oh, did she want much more. 

She tried to control her grin as she boldly leaned in towards him. “I don’t think we have to wait for you to show me,” she said with a smirk to rival his own. 

Lucius raised a surprised eyebrow. “I do not think Draco would want to share you; I was rather surprised that he allowed me to stay during your last visit.” 

“I think Draco may continue to surprise you,” she informed him. “He knows I’m here, tonight.” 

Lucius narrowed his eyes, looking away. “He probably views this as some sort of competition.” He sounded annoyed. 

“He did at first, but I set him straight on that point,” she said confidently. 

“Did you?” Lucius asked, sitting back in his chair, studying her. “We’ll see. Would you care for a nightcap?” 

“I’d love one,” she said, feeling butterflies in her stomach for the second time that day.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Hermione found herself running late for work. She had spent a very late night at Malfoy Manor, talking and laughing with Lucius, who she found to be completely surprising in charm, wit, and intelligence. If he would have asked her to spend the night with him, she would have, but he had been a perfect gentleman and kept it non-sexual, despite their obvious chemistry.

She appreciated that, but she did have to find some release by getting herself off a few times when she got home.

When she arrived at work, once again all eyes were on her, and to her chagrin, her office door was already open. There was someone sitting beside her desk. She frowned as she drew closer. It was a very unwelcome visitor, someone she absolutely hated – Rita Skeeter. 

When Hermione came to stand at her door, Skeeter stood up, pushing her glasses up to give Hermione a studious once over as if mentally taking notes for her report later. Her infamous writing quill was already floating in mid-air, next to her pad, waiting for Hermione to speak. Who the hell let her in? 

“Hermione Granger,” she said with sickly sweet false affection. “What a pleasure it is finally make contact with you, once again.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, continuing on her path to her desk. “Yes, well, what is it that you want, Skeeter? I’m very busy.” 

Skeeter pursed her lips. “You’ve been refusing my owls for weeks now.” 

“There’s a reason for that,” Hermione snapped. “I don’t have anything to say to you or your nosy readers,” she said, digging through her reports. 

Skeeter bit her lip and whispered something to her quill. “Yes, but they have plenty of questions for you. Perhaps you could give me a short statement on your divorce?” 

“You want a statement? All right, here goes – I’m happily divorced,” Hermione said with a wry smile. 

“And how do you feel about your ex-husband seeing two Qudditich starlets so soon after your split?” Skeeter pressed. “There’s been much speculation that perhaps there was something going on before the official divorce,” she suggested with a nasty sparkle in her eye. 

Hermione shrugged. “More power to him, I say. If anyone has an opportunity to see two people at once, go for it. Although, as I recall, Ron never was very good at multitasking, so I wish him the best of luck with that.” 

Skeeter mouth dropped open. “That’s your statement?” 

“Yes, now, if you don’t mind,” Hermione said, tapping her fingers on her report. 

“Ah, there is one more thing,” Skeeter said with a silky smug smile.

Hermione sighed, waiting. 

“There’s talk that you may be seeing the youngest Malfoy, Draco. Is there any truth to that rumour,” she asked moving forward, ready to pounce if Hermione gave away anything in the affirmative. 

Hermione smiled, “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” 

Skeeter frowned and studied Hermione as if trying to figure out what game she was playing. 

“Hmm-hmm. Yes, I suppose I will… I’ll be seeing you around, _Miss Granger,_ ” Skeeter said, emphasising Hermione’s last name as if to add insult, which, of course, Hermione no longer felt. 

Skeeter whispered one last thing to her quill and turned on her heel to leave without another word. Hermione watched as she stopped by Abbey’s desk. Abbey stood up abruptly, leading Skeeter out. Hermione made a mental note that she would have to be careful around Abbey in the future, especially when Draco came by.

~~~~~~~~~

On Saturday Draco arrived at Hermione’s house at 7:00pm on the mark, looking his best. His robes were impeccable, finely tailored dark blue and he wore a silver silk shirt underneath that really brought out his eyes. He wanted to look good, but not appear as if he was trying too hard. He was, Draco Malfoy, after all; _Witch’s Weekly_ Second Most Eligible Bachelor.

For the past three years, Draco had been the magazine’s number one pick. After his appointment at The Ministry and very public truce with Hermione, he had become widely regarded as the Wizarding World’s hottest reformed bad boy. 

It angered Draco to think of the magazine’s new number one pick this year – Ronald bloody Weasley. The git had just had a divorce! And right on time it seemed. Draco just knew it had to be Weasley’s new single status coupled with his other titles of war hero, best friend of Harry Potter, and position as Keeper for the number one Quidditch team in Britain. That, and the wanker actually had managed to acquire a rather impressive form since leaving Hogwarts. A form he apparently had no shame in showing off. 

Weasley had become a total attention whore since joining the Cannons, selling his pictures and conducting interviews at the drop of a Knut. Draco was proud that he didn’t have to go to such measures; in fact, he kept a rather low profile. 

It wasn’t his fault that the tabloids were so interested in his social life. At least he didn’t have to parade it around the way Weasley did. It was so typical of Weasley to flaunt that he was seeing two women at the same time. Draco had done that more than once in his short life. 

Disgusted at giving the issue so much thought, he snorted and set it in the back of his mind. Those magazines were complete rubbish, anyway. 

Draco continued to give himself this inner pep talk as he stood outside of Hermione’s door, trying to calm his nerves. He was annoyed that he felt the need to bolster his confidence. When it came to women, he had never had a problem with confidence, and he didn’t understand why Granger… Hermione… had suddenly begun to affect him so. It couldn’t have been the sex; he had sex all the time, with loads of witches. 

Though, Hermione was rather good at it. But it had to be more than that, she was also… 

“Draco?” Hermione’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, and he stood standing before her feeling quite foolish. 

“How long have you been standing here?” she asked. 

Draco cleared his throat. “Uh, not long, just got here, really. Honestly, Granger, are you so excited to see me that you couldn’t even wait until I knocked?” he said with a smirk. 

Hermione’s pursed her lips, unimpressed with his humour. “Don’t flatter yourself. Are you going to stand there, or come in?” 

Draco followed her inside, and waited as she ran upstairs for something. 

When she came down, he took a moment to really look at her. She was wearing a simple black dress, cut low, but not too low. It hinted just enough cleavage to keep him on edge but not enough to cheapen her appearance. Her hair was pulled back in the French braid once more, and she had on just a smidgen of make-up. She looked quite lovely.

It was a nice change from the bints Draco usually took out, who felt the need to over dress and plaster their faces with make-up for the reporters and photographers that were known to pop up whenever he was out on the town. 

And now, standing here, before him, Draco finally could name what it was about Hermione Granger that made her so attractive. It was the confident way she carried herself. Intelligence radiated in her eyes, and now, she seemed to have an added glow about her. He saw none of her previous forced stoicism of trying to cope with her heartbreaking divorce from Weasley. She seemed at peace. Perhaps, she was finally over him. 

He hoped.

“You look… wonderful,” he said, trying to keep his eyes respectful as to where they lingered.   

“Thank you,” she said with a bright smile. “Shall we be off?”   

Draco nodded, giving her his arm for Side-Along Apparition.  

~~~~~~~~~

Draco took Hermione to the most exclusive restaurant in town “Carissa’s”. They knew him there, and he enjoyed the privacy and ambiance of the establishment.

There were a few whispers when they arrived at the door. Apparently, the manager noticed and that was put to rest quickly as they were ushered to a more secluded area of the restaurant. 

Draco enjoyed watching Hermione’s face as she tried not to look half as impressed as he fancied she must have been. 

“If I had known you were taking me here…” she turned and murmured. 

“You would have overdressed or worked yourself into a nervous wreck. You look fine and fit in perfectly,” he reassured. 

She smiled and glanced around as he held her chair out for her and waited for her to sit. 

“Do you come here often?” she asked. 

It was a loaded question. If he said no, she would know he was trying to impress her, if he said yes, she would think this was a routine he pulled for all of the girls he took out. 

Draco smirked, “I’ve been here before, yes.” 

Hermione nodded, watching him. “Well, I hope we’re not here because you think impressing me will best your father.” 

Draco clicked his teeth. “Please… if I wanted to compete with Father, you’d know it.” 

“If you say so,” she said. 

He didn’t like the knowing look she in her eyes, as if she saw through his nonchalant act. It irritated him more that she had managed to touch a nerve by mentioning the possibility of competing with his father for her favour. 

And then something that had been nagging Draco for the longest time was pushing its way over his tongue. He held onto it as the waiter took their orders, but once he was gone, Draco just had to know. 

“You don’t think it’s rather perverse to be seeing both father and son? What would Potter and the rest of your goody-goody lot think?” he asked. 

Hermione sighed, picking up her glass of water and taking a sip before answering. “Frankly, I’m tired of thinking about what I should and should not be doing. It seems that no matter what I do, it’s going to be twisted and turned into gossip. So, I just want to enjoy myself for once. I deserve it,” she said resolutely, sticking her nose up. 

Draco sniggered, “The lady has spoken.” 

“Now, let me ask you a question, Draco,” she said. 

Draco gave her a cautious head nod. 

Hermione smirked, tracing the ring of her water glass slowly. “Did it feel absolutely incestuous for you to share me the way you did… with your father?” 

Draco glanced up at the ceiling, thinking on how to explain what the experience made him feel like. “Yes… and no. I’m not sexually attracted to my father, but it doesn’t bother me to see him naked, either. I fancy that I’ll look pretty much like him one day, so it was nice to see my older self in action, so to speak.” 

Hermione laughed, “You’re so vain.” 

“Just a little,” he said with a wink. 

He was relieved to see that Hermione seemed to relax considerably after that. As the waiter brought out their first, second, and third courses, Draco fell into comfortable and enjoyable conversation with her. They discussed their jobs, ministry politics, and office gossip, which led to the inevitable—the rumours about Lucius’ parties.

“I know that you weren’t invited,” she said, waiting for his denial. 

Draco sighed. “Let me guess, father told you.” 

“Yes... he did. I can’t believe you crashed, and then made me a conspirator in the process,” she said in mock offense, with a playful smile on her face. 

He loved it when she did that. 

“I didn’t see you complaining,” he teased in return. 

“How long has he—” 

“I don’t know.” Draco interrupted, his smile waning. “I haven’t really discussed it with him yet, and I need to.” 

Hermione perched her chin on her hand, as if in deep thought. “You know, there’s nothing really wrong with it. Everyone there wants to be there. It’s just a little naughty fun between consenting adults.” 

“Maybe once in a while,” Draco said in a hushed whisper, as if embarrassed. “But every month? My mother….” A lump stopped him from continuing. 

He missed his mother so much. Talking about her out loud was still painful. His eyes fell to the table as her face flashed before his eyes. When he looked back up he saw that Hermione was watching him, closely. He suddenly remembered that this was their first official outing, and that he was revealing a bit too much, at least for his liking. 

“She wouldn’t have approved,” he said quietly. 

“Yes, I can imagine,” Hermione replied gently. “But, he does look happy, doesn’t he? Isn’t that what matters?” 

Draco felt a spark of frustration and annoyance at Hermione’s insistent support of his father’s public perversion. He chose his next words carefully, trying to temper them so as not to start a row. 

“No. What matters is that my father conducts himself properly so as not to bring any more derision on the Malfoy name. We’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime,” he said with finality. 

Hermione took a sip of water, looking down at the table. Seconds passed as a tense silence grew between them. Draco’s thoughts were on Hermione. He imagined that she was currently thinking of the Malfoy’s role in the War and their past differences. All of their sordid history seemed to be hovering over the table, until Hermione looked up and smiled.

“You know, I didn’t really come here to discuss your father or the past, Draco,” she said, putting her hand over his. 

Draco discreetly exhaled and gave her a slight nod. “I should hope not, you’d be running the risk of a serious punishment for ruining our first night out.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, her eyes daring him to say more. “Punishment? As in…”

“A spanking,” he said evenly, feeling something inside of him stir as he remembered the sight of having her over his knee. He had replayed that particular scene several times since that night and he couldn’t wait to do it again. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” she asked with a seductive smile. Damn, she was sexy. 

“Perhaps both,” he replied as his cock twitched in his trousers.

He hadn’t realised just how intensely he had been gazing at her until she looked away. He pushed his arousal down, trying to focus on the purpose of their evening out. “But that’s not why we’re here, is it? We have plenty of time for that, if you like.”   

She smiled that brilliant smile again, and Draco realised how lucky he was to have Hermione Granger’s interest. More than ever before, he wanted to learn as much as he could about her.  

~~~~~~~~~

The following day Ron woke up groggy and drained. Still, he couldn’t fight the erection poking at his belly as he felt two completely different petite hands slide across his chest. It was like a dream come true. He was a star Quidditch athlete for his favourite team, he was finally rich beyond anything he had ever imagined, he was quite good looking and highly sought after, _Witch’s Weekly_ new Number One Bachelor of the Year, and he was seeing not one, but two gifted and gorgeous female athletes. It just didn’t get any better than this.

The thought of his ex-wife, Hermione briefly crossed his mind, as it always did when he woke up, but he quickly dismissed it once more. Sometimes he felt like a complete arse for divorcing her so quickly and moving on the way he did, but Ron had convinced himself that it was all for the best. 

Hermione was too practical, too proper, and too plain for his new lifestyle. He cared for her, yes, but she was always scolding him for his lavish tastes in fancy robes, new brooms, and partying. The life of a Quidditch star was fast and glamorous, it was a life he had always wanted, a life he once thought he wasn’t good enough to have, and at every turn, it had felt as if she had been holding him back. 

Secretly, he had derived some satisfaction being the one to break off their marriage. Everyone had always said Hermione was too good for him. But, after leaving Hogwarts, he had grown into his form, becoming quite handsome and built, and after spending hours perfecting his game, he had landed the coveted Keeper position for the Chudley Cannons, a position that no one ever thought he could achieve. 

Ronald Weasley had finally beaten the naysayers, the bashers, and a piece of him felt like he had finally beaten _her._

As one of his girlfriends, Victoria, slid down to begin the morning ritual of sucking his cock, Ron sighed in contentment. But his erotic bliss was disrupted when he heard his other girlfriend, Emma, gasp in surprise. 

Opening his eyes, he saw that her nose was firmly stuck to the gossip page of _The Daily Prophet._ He rolled his eyes at her melodramatic response to local gossip until his eyes drifted to the picture on the page. Sitting up abruptly, he grabbed the paper from her. 

 

_**Rebound or Something More?** _

_The newly divorced, Hermione Granger, has reportedly been seen having lunches and this past weekend a very fancy dinner at the notoriously exclusive ‘Carissa’s’ with none other than Witch’s Weekly Second Most Eligible Bachelor, Draco Malfoy._

_The magazine's new Number One Most Eligible Bachelor, Ronald Weasley, Ms Granger’s ex-husband, was unavailable for comment, but don’t worry faithful readers, we will be watching this one closely for more developments._

_Rita Skeeter_

 

Ron snorted. Hermione and Draco Malfoy? 

“Nice try, Hermione. Like I’m buying that one. Like _anyone_ is buying that,” he said, looking to Emma for confirmation of how ridiculous the story sounded. The petite blonde girl only shrugged with uncertainty, looking away quickly as if she thought the story may be uncomfortably true. 

Ron threw the paper across the room, falling on his back once more. Hermione always ruined everything for him! He should have been feeling triumphant, but after seeing that picture of her dining at a swank restaurant with Draco Malfoy, he only felt angry and confused. Why did he even bloody care? 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Victoria asked, looking up from his crotch in concern as she flopped his flailing erection about, emphasising his sudden lack of arousal. 

Ron smacked her hand away and rolled over with a huff of annoyance. 

“Nothing, I’m not in the mood right now,” he grunted and made a mental note to have his assistant owl his ex-wife so that he could find out just what the hell was going on between Hermione and Malfoy.


	7. Baggage

By the end of the week, three more minor newspapers and the Wizard Wireless Network were reporting that Hermione Granger was in fact seeing Draco Malfoy. 

Unknown to the public, Hermione had been with either Draco or Lucius every night for the past two weeks. Her visits to Malfoy Manor had to be planned carefully, so as not to draw any unwanted attention to her or Lucius in light of her very public, new relationship with his son. 

Avoiding the press was becoming more challenging. They seemed particularly interested in getting shots of Hermione leaving her home. Especially, when there was a chance that she was going to work or somewhere where Draco may be. 

She had forgotten what it was like to be the centre of so much attention. Her first taste of it was right after the war; Harry’s defeat of Voldemort had brought an avalanche of media attention upon her and her friends. While Harry was quite used to it and was able to brush it off easily, Hermione despised it, wanting to keep a low profile and leave as much of the past behind her as possible. 

Ron, on the other hand, became a different person entirely. In fact, Hermione blamed the press for Ron’s inflated ego. It had started with the hero worship they bestowed on the beloved Trio, and had grown with the slightest new development in each of their lives. 

At first, Ron had been camera shy, bumbling awkwardly whenever a reporter asked him a question, but over time, with each new interview, he had grown more confident and articulate. Harry had been supportive of Ron’s new found talent to perform in front of the camera, and had even begun to redirect all of the Trio’s press attention to Ron. Initially, even Hermione had found herself attracted to Ron’s new confident public persona, but it all went downhill terribly fast when Ron made the Quidditch team. Hermione watched on helplessly as Ron went from confident to arrogant seemingly overnight. It still hurt her to think about how his self-centred and selfish antics eventually destroyed not only their marriage, but their friendship as well.

Now, every night Hermione came home, there would be a new owl waiting for her from either the press or Ron. It angered her that suddenly, he wanted have a ‘conversation’ with her. 

As far Hermione was concerned, there was nothing left to be said, and so she did not respond to any of his posts.

~~~~~~~~~

“Ron! Ron! Over here,” shouted one reporter, during Ron’s post-game interview.

Ron smiled, pointing to the eager young man. “Yeah?”

“Care to comment on the rumours that your ex-wife is now seeing Draco Malfoy?” 

Ron’s smile dropped, replaced by an unusual nasty scowl. Cameras flashed to get a shot of the rare moment of the Quidditch star not smiling.

He took a deep breath, trying to control the grimace on his face. “No, I don’t care to comment! I think you guys need to focus on real news. What Hermione does is none of my business, or any of yours,” he said, trying to mask his annoyance. 

Of course, what Ron told the press and what he actually thought were always two completely different things. He had learned the art of perfecting his public image, understanding that his temper sometimes hurt his reputation, and it wasn’t good for endorsements. He plastered on a cool expression before stepping down from the platform.

“That’ll be all now. No more comments,” he heard his publicist say. “You’re all invited for rare press publicity photographs this Friday, right here in front of the Chudley Stadium.” 

As Ron made his way down to the team locker room, all he could think about was Hermione and Malfoy. He punched the wall, ignoring the pain. He was seriously stressed! The recent gossip and headlines about his ex-wife were messing with his game. He had missed four key saves in the past week alone, and the big game against Kenmare was coming up. That game would be the only thing stopping the Cannons from going to the championships this year and he couldn’t afford to be off in the least bit. 

Not only that, but the Hermione and Malfoy business was wreaking havoc on his sex drive. As a result, things within his new threesome relationship had become tense. Both Victoria and Emma shared the same sentiment about all of the gossip; they were both tired of the press asking them what they thought about Hermione. The focus was no longer on them or their own Quidditch careers, but on Ron and his baggage of an ex-wife.

Ron didn’t know who he was more upset at: himself or Hermione. When he divorced Hermione he thought he was doing them both a favour. He wanted to party and explore the temptations the life of a professional athlete offered. Of course, Hermione didn’t approve of most of his interests, especially when it came to indulging his many female fans and admirers. He didn’t want to screw around on her while they were married, so he had thought a divorce would be the most respectable thing to do. 

But he hadn’t expected her to move on so quickly. 

In fact, Ron had thought Hermione would remain unattached and that it would take her years to get over him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ron had thought that Hermione would always be there waiting for him if and when he was ready to return to her. 

But now, Hermione wouldn’t even answer his bloody owls! Ron was at his breaking point and entertaining the thought of going to see her person to settle things. If there’s one thing he had, it was connections. And if Ron had to magically pop up wherever Hermione was and force her to talk to him, then that’s just what he would do. 

He decided that he would try owling her one more time. If she didn’t respond, then he would get his assistant to find out her schedule and where she frequented the most, so that he could fix the messy situation she had created before the next game.

~~~~~~~~~

As Hermione finished dressing for her evening with Lucius, a rambunctious owl tapped loudly at the window. She sighed loudly, contemplating whether to let it in or not.

When the bird began to bang its head against the window she cursed and walked briskly to open it, before it seriously injured itself.

Had the press become so desperate they were, now, abusing owls just to snag an interview?

“Skeeter is not someone worth hurting yourself over,” she said to the owl as it flew in, landing on her shoulder. She walked over to her vanity bureau and let the owl hop down. Caressing its head, she retrieved the letter from its beak.

Hermione frowned. It was another owl from Ron. She hadn’t opened any of his owls since the first had arrived after her publicised dinner with Draco. But, this white speckled owl piqued her interest; it had seemed especially committed to delivering its message and she felt she at least owed the animal her respect, even if she didn’t like its owner very much.

“Let’s see what the wanker has to say this time, shall we?” she said, unrolling the parchment.

 

_Hermione,_

_Please stop embarrassing yourself. If you’re trying to get my attention, you’ve got it. Although, I think it’s sad you feel the need to go to such extreme and distasteful lengths as to parade yourself around as Malfoy’s latest bint. But I understand – you miss me._

_I know you’re not a slag, so I’m willing to meet you to discuss how we can mend our friendship. I know you miss me very badly, and I wouldn’t mind being your friend again, either._

_I hope this owl reaches you, as I’m sure you’re just as tired of the games as I am. Please contact my assistant as soon as possible. She is waiting for your reply so I can fit you into my schedule._

_Talk to you soon._

_Ron_

 

Hermione stood staring at the letter, her hands trembling with anger. She balled up it up and threw it at wall. 

Taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself and studied her face, touching up her make-up. Once she was done, she looked down at the owl, admiring its coat. It had been most diligent in accomplishing its task.

“Tell me, little owl, are you happy where you are?” 

The owl continued to stare at her, expectantly. 

“I suspect not,” she whispered, giving it another treat. “Come, you’re _my_ owl now. You won’t have to see any more of that bad, bad man.” 

She leaned over so that the owl could hop onto her shoulder, which it did immediately. Whistling as she walked, she carried it to a large suspended playpen so that it could make the acquaintance of her other two owls. She had a fondness for them, and enjoyed giving wayward creatures a home. 

She named the bird Jean, after her mother and introduced him to his two new friends. 

Although the act brought some degree of satisfaction, her nerves were still frayed from Ron’s audacity. She tried to tell herself not to think of it any longer as she grabbed her purse and made her way downstairs to Floo directly to Malfoy Manor.

~~~~~~~~~

When Hermione arrived, Lucius was already standing near the hearth, talking to Tizzy, who greeted Hermione and quickly popped out of sight.

“You’re late,” Lucius said with subtle irritation, revealing only the tiniest hint of concern in his voice. 

He extended his hand, assisting her from the fireplace. He could tell she was upset. Of course, being the Gryffindor she was, it was nearly concealed under a stoic mask. But Lucius had become familiar enough with her various expressions over the past few weeks. 

“Yes, well, I’m sorry,” she said, waving her hand at him, dismissively.

“A drink?” he offered, holding up a glass of her favourite wine.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it without giving him a second glance as she took a seat on the couch.

Lucius frowned. He didn’t like her tone or her apparent distracted state. “What’s the matter?”

Hermione groaned, throwing her head back. “What’s not the matter is a better question!”

Lucius took a seat next to her. “What is it now? More reporters?”

Hermione took a sip of her wine, watching him over the glass before answering. “Yes, there’s that…and something else.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, waiting. 

“My ex-husband…” she began

Lucius could feel a small snarl forming on his lips. He couldn’t help it; it was a natural reaction to any mention of a Weasley.

“What has he done now?”

“He wants to meet with me!” she said in exasperation.

“Whatever for?” Lucius queried.

Hermione threw one hand up. “I’m not sure, but I suspect the rumours about Draco and I have probably deflated his rather large ego, and he expects me to put an end to it. He claims he doesn’t even believe that they’re true, but obviously he does, or he wouldn’t care so much!”

Lucius chuckled. “Well, from what I recall, he always was quite dim, even for a Weasley."

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

He studied her for a few moments, aware that his annoyance was growing. In his opinion, Hermione was long overdue for a lesson on respect when in his company. 

“Come here,” he ordered, staring at her intently, his jaw set and right hand tight and ready to reach out and grab her if she did not comply. 

He felt some satisfaction and a flare of arousal as she stiffened, her eyes reflecting a hint of trepidation. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” she whined. “I’m in a wicked mood.”

Lucius levelled an imposing stare. “I have something for that, witch.”

Hermione swallowed. He always enjoyed seeing her like this, on edge, vacillating between her usual confidence and falling apart. Just the thought of such a strong woman giving in to him made him hard.

They had been dancing around the topic of sex since their second evening together but had managed to avoid it, with only light kisses on the cheek and brushes against each other as they talked. He had intentionally kept as much physical distance between them as possible, only interjecting sexual innuendo here and there. 

“And what might that be,” she asked boldly.

“It’s very rude of you to enter my home with thoughts of another man, especially such riff-raff as Weasley… it’s bad enough you were once married to him. I shouldn’t have to be reminded of that. It’s sickening,” Lucius said with a grimace. 

“Lucius, I’m—”

“You will have to be punished— thoroughly,” he said sternly, his gaze fixed on her with no sign of leniency.

Hermione drew back. “I really don’t like pain, if that’s what you’re into,” she said apprehensively.

Lucius smirked. “Perhaps you do and don’t know it yet. You have yet to really experience it.”

“You may recall, your son spanked me, right in front of your eyes,” she reminded.

Lucius rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t a _real_ spanking, Hermione…unless, you two have been playing, lately.”

It was a question. Suddenly, he wanted – no needed – to know what she and Draco had been doing, and what they meant to each other. 

“Lucius, Draco and I are seeing each other, just as you and I are,” she said carefully, her eyes fixed on his expression.

“Yes, we’re becoming acquainted, but you still didn’t answer my question,” he said, maintaining an impassive façade to cover the torrent of emotions running through him. He felt territorial, vulnerable, and randy, all at once. 

“No, we haven’t been…‘playing’, as you call it,” she replied.

“Good, then I get the pleasure of breaking you in properly,” he said grabbing her glass from her and setting it down on the coffee table. 

Hermione pulled away, appearing bewildered by the sudden turn of events and Lucius’s forwardness. “Lucius—”

He leaned in, pressing a finger to her mouth. “Hush. You will not speak anymore unless spoken too, understand?”

Hermione looked gob smacked and suddenly the urge to be stern with her overtook him. Lately, his fantasies of her while wanking weren’t cutting it; he needed to have her, to feel her, possess her. 

He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, pulling her close until their lips touched. When she sighed in acquiescence, he wasted no time forcing his tongue between her lips, devouring her mouth as he caressed her breast through her blouse. 

Lucius groaned as felt her throat pulse in his hand. She moaned into his mouth and he shifted as her hand trailed its way up his thigh towards his prominent erection. 

“No,” he growled suddenly, pushing her back, as he straightened and leaned against the couch. “Over my knee…now!” he said with barely restrained lust and frustration. He was determined not lose control; she needed to disciplined first. 

Hermione hesitated, as if considering whether she would obey for a moment before slowly lowering herself over his knee.

Lucius sat back, trying to reign in his eagerness. He began to stroke her back, moving lower and lower until his hand was resting firmly on her bum.

When she wiggled under his palm, he smirked, pleased to see her so willing and eager. 

His hand travelled further down until it reached the hem of her skirt, which had already risen up considerably, exposing smooth thighs. As he traced his fingers along her inner thigh he could feel his hard cock aching at the feel of her soft flesh. He had to shift in his seat once more. When he did, Hermione squirmed, pressing her body into his hardness and raising her bum, as if begging him to spank her.

Lucius’s fingers moved higher until they reached the edge of her knickers. Quickly pulling them to the side, he slid a long middle finger into her. He almost sighed to feel a part of himself buried once more inside her tight silky wetness; he’d missed it terribly. 

Hermione gasped at the intrusion and began to grind her hips. His cock twitched tightly against the fabric of his trousers. He needed to claim her, now, but first things first. Pulling his finger out, Lucius smacked Hermione firmly on both arse cheeks.

“Owww,” she whined.

“Did I say you could move?”

Hermione huffed. “No…”

“No…what?”

“No, Lucius.”

“Let this be a lesson to you…” he said, placing his hand firmly on one cheek. “If you ever… _ever_ , come into my home again, upset over a _Weasley_ , this is what you will get.”

He pulled back his hand and let it land hard and fast, causing her to cry out. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lucius…yes,” she gasped.

“I will not…” 

Smack. 

“…tolerate…” 

Smack, smack. 

“Any wasted emotion on that…” 

Smack. Smack. Smack. 

“Bastard.” 

Hermione was gasping with each smack, gasping and squirming. She appeared to be caught between pain and pleasure, and when Lucius was done she was left gripping his leg with her face pressed into the couch. He listened as she breathed heavily, his hand hot and swollen from doling out her punishment.

He softly pressed his red hand against her red bum, soothing both of them as he waited for her breathing to return to normal.

“Now what do you say?” he asked finally, his hand sliding down to stroke her wet folds. He licked his lips as she resumed her grinding against him.

Hermione turned her head to the side to look up at him with a satisfied smirk. “I’m sorry, Lucius, I’ll make sure it never happens again.

Lucius chuckled. “You’re very cheeky.”

“Thank you.”

“Now…Do you need to be somewhere in the morning?” he asked casually, slipping his finger back into her.

Hermione moaned and pushed herself onto it wantonly. “Aaahh…no…but…”

“But what?” he asked as he added another finger as he began to fuck her slowly.

“Oooh, but…I’m having… lunch with…with your son at noooon.” 

Lucius smiled. “You like saying ‘your son’, don’t you? Reminds you what a dirty little minx you are.”

“Hmmhmm.”

“I can’t promise you that you won’t over sleep after I’m through with you tonight,” he whispered, his hands sinking into hair to pull her up as he leaned in for a deep kiss.

~~~~~~~~~

Hermione woke up with her arse cheeks pulsating from the extra two spankings Lucius had given her. Merlin, that man’s hands were powerful. As she rolled over she felt the rest of her body’s aches.

Delicious aches. Lucius had worked her over well. 

She smiled. Not only was he a great lover, but he pushed her in ways she hadn’t even known she wanted. If it were up to her, she would remain in bed, next to him all morning, but she couldn’t. She bolted straight up, looking to the clock. 

It was eleven o’clock. 

She had an hour to shower, get dressed, and get to the coffee shop to meet Draco for their lunch date.

Placing a soft kiss on Lucius’s cheek she began to rise, when he yawned and pulled her back down on top of him.

“Lucius, I’m going to be late,” she scolded.

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Let him wait, we haven’t even said good morning properly.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, you’re just being territorial and selfish. Draco will not be pleased if I stand him up, and I’ll be forced to blame it on you.”

Lucius sighed loudly, “Fine. But if you want to know the truth, I’m not sure this is going to work. I’m not used to sharing.” 

Hermione considered him for a moment. “I think we should all discuss it.”

“No, I need to talk to him alone,” Lucius said with finality, staring up at the ceiling in contemplation. 

Hermione looked at him warily. “Well, you do what you need to do, but I’m as much a part of this decision as both of you. My opinion about this…relationship, or whatever we want to call this arrangement, is just as important.”

Lucius looked back at her, nodding curtly. “Very well, off you go,” he said reluctantly. 

Hermione placed another kiss on his forehead, and then rose to Floo back home so she could get ready for her lunch with Draco.

~~~~~~~~~

She entered the coffee shop early and sat down at a table in the corner, hoping it would be hidden enough so that Draco and she could avoid the cameras for a few moments. It was becoming more difficult to eat in public lately, with the media frenzy over their relationship.

When Hermione heard footsteps approaching, she looked up with a warm smile that immediately disappeared.

Ron! 

She was stunned and outraged to see him here. It certainly couldn’t have been a coincidence.

“Expecting someone else?” Ron asked. Hermione saw that his face was pinched in a familiar angry expression she hadn’t missed one bit.

She suppressed a scowl . “Ron! What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? It’s a free country,” Ron said defensively.

Hermione sat back against the booth seat. “Which means I have the right to ignore you.”

“Oh stop it, Hermione! You’re being silly.”

“ _I’m_ being silly? _You’re_ the one following me and owling me to death! _You’re_ the one who wanted a divorce! Well, a divorce is what you got! Now, leave me alone!”

“Is that what this is all about?” Ron said in a hushed voice, looking behind him.

Hermione looked around to see quite a few peering eyes. “What are you on about?” she whispered back. 

“You trolling all over London with Draco fucking Malfoy is what I’m on about! It’s pathetic! You’re smarter than this, Hermione.” 

Hermione began to laugh, while Ron’s face grew red with frustration.

“You know what I’m smarter than, Ron? I’m smarter than lowering myself to your level, I’m smarter than dealing with the crap you put me through during the last year of our ‘marriage’, and I’m smarter than to sit here and let you goad me into an argument about who I can and cannot see. Now, you may as well be on your way, because we have nothing else to discuss,” she said with barely contained anger. The thought of hexing him was becoming more difficult to push aside, by the minute.

Ron scoffed. “Sure there is…you wanted my attention, well, now you have it.”

Hermione couldn’t believe his nerve. “What?”

“That’s why you’re seeing him, isn’t it? You wanted to show me you could compete with the other birds trying to get a piece of me. You always were jealous of all of my fans. So, let’s talk about why you’re really doing this, Hermione: you want some of my time. Fine. I may be willing to set aside our differences and work on our friendship if you’re willing to stop embarrassing both of us.”

Hermione couldn’t hide her shock. The git really was unbelievably far gone in his delusions of grandeur.

Ron folded his arms over his chest. “Now, tell me, what type of arrangement you really have with that ponce.”

“The type that obligates me to tell you that if you don’t leave her alone, Weasley, you won’t have to worry about her embarrassing you; I’ll hand your arse to you in front of everyone right here,” Draco threatened from behind Ron.

Ron turned around; his fist balled tightly coming face to face with Draco. 

Hermione stared up at them in apprehension. They were almost nose-to-nose, Ron’s face wore a mean scowl and his fists were now clenching and unclenching, which never was a good sign. 

She was secretly proud, though, to see Draco’s face just as menacing. He didn’t seem afraid in the least. A part of her wanted him to take Ron down a peg, but another part of her doubted he could. Ron was bigger and a trained athlete, after all.

“Draco,” she said rising from her seat, “Don’t bother. Let’s go.” 

But neither man budged. Hermione thought of physically pushing her way between them as her fear of them coming to blows rose. Suddenly, at that very moment, a camera on the other side of the room flashed. 

The three of them turned their heads in the direction of the bright light, only to be greeted by several more flashes. 

“Bugger!” Ron cursed.

“This is all your fault!” Hermione whispered to him, harshly.

“Just shut it, and smile pretty for the cameras,” Ron shot back as he flashed his trademark-winning smile.

But Draco wasn’t smiling, not at all. In fact, he was still glaring at Ron. Finally, he broke his glare to give Hermione a weary annoyed look.

“Ron! Over here…” a reporter called.

Ron turned and flashed another smile for the camera. Hermione groaned.

“Shall we go now?” Hermione asked Draco.

Draco nodded. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

“Hermione!” someone called. 

“Malfoy!” yelled another.

Draco and Hermione both exchanged irritated glances before turning back to the growing crowd in the café.

How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?

“Is it true you three are caught in a love triangle?” one reporter shouted.

Hermione wanted to laugh but it was Ron who cut in loudly with a fake chuckle. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you? I’ve got my hands full, as you well know. I’m seeing Victoria and Emma,” he boasted. 

Hermione nearly stomped on his foot. Nearly.

“Then why are you following Ms Granger?” another reporter asked quickly. 

Hermione stifled a snigger, looking at Ron to see his reaction.

“Yeah, and were you and Malfoy just about to have a punch-up?” someone shouted.

“Of course not,” Ron denied, waving them off dismissively.

“Mr Malfoy!” another reporter shouted out, which was greeted by Draco’s steely grey glower. 

“Do you think you’re up to fighting Ron Weasley?”

Draco scowl broke into a genuine laugh, and Hermione stared up at him, curious to hear him so amused at the question. Ron tried to play along, forcing a fake smile and shaking his head as if he and Draco were old pals. 

“I think I could kick Weasley’s arse on and off the Quidditch pitch,” Draco said flippantly.

A few reporters laughed and more cameras flashed as Ron’s smile disappeared. 

“All right everyone, that’s enough laughs for the day. There’s nothing going on here. Now, I have a full day of training, so if you’ll excuse me,” Ron said, making his way through the crowd and out the door with a few cameramen trailing behind him.

Draco grabbed Hermione’s arm and guided her around the corner where they had privacy. She was about to speak when the tight uncomfortable squeeze of a surprise Side-Along Apparition stopped her. 

The squeezing sensation loosened and Hermione looked down to see her feet planted on a new hard wood floor. She fell back, vaguely aware that she was now standing in what appeared to be the living room of Draco’s flat.

He caught her around the waist and they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. There was heat there, and she closed her eyes, expecting to be kissed, when Draco let her go and pulled back.

“Looks like you have some baggage to take care of…” he said tersely. “That is, if you aren’t thinking of how to get back with him.” 

There was an accusatory tone to his voice that she didn’t like at all. Draco’s jealousy seemed ridiculous. “Why would I want to go back to Ron when he divorced me?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps he has a point— maybe you’re just seeing me to get his attention again.”

Suddenly, Hermione wanted to wring Draco’s neck. Instead, she took a deep breath to steady her voice. “You’re a real piece of work, Draco. And, you have some nerve, of all people. If I were half as cynical as you are, I’d think how convenient it is that you’re suddenly interested in going out with me, the ex-wife of the man who replaced you as the number one most eligible bachelor.”

Draco gave Hermione a dismissive once-over. “You know I could give a damn about what _Witch’s Weekly_ thinks of me.”

Hermione stared at him sceptically.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked abruptly.

“No,” she said, still annoyed at his accusation. 

Draco turned, going to his bar and pouring himself a Firewhiskey. He drank it in one quick gulp, before measuring out another.

“Where were you last night?” he asked, his back still turned.

“Why? Did you come by?” Hermione asked, focusing on his hardwood floor as she thought about how to answer that question.

“Just tell me, Hermione,” he pressed, waiting in still silence.

“I—I was with your father,” she said softly.

Draco nodded. “So, you and he are sleeping together again.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes. Is that a problem? As I recall we’ve all slept together. ”

Draco chuckled dryly. “Well, _we’re_ not sleeping together now, are we? You and I haven’t slept together since that night.” 

Hermione recalled the territorial way Lucius had reacted when she said she was meeting Draco. Suddenly, having a conversation about their arrangement seemed more important than ever. 

“Listen, Draco, Lucius and I...”

“ _Lucius?_ ” Draco mused. “Yes, Lucius…what about you and _Lucius_?” he asked with disdain.

Hermione swallowed. “I think you need to speak with your father. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable with this arrangement, and I’m not sure he’s entirely comfortable with it, either.” 

“But you’re fine with it, I see,” Draco said, finally turning around, glaring at Hermione. “Having a ball, aren’t you? All this attention you’re getting…me, my father, _The Prophet,_ and now, even your ex-husband. It’s working out just great for you,” he said bitterly. 

“I think I should leave,” Hermione said, feeling a pang in her heart as she turned away. 

“Yes, I was about to say the same,” Draco said flatly.

Hermione paused, and turned back to him. “I thought seeing two blokes would be difficult. But actually, you know what’s hard? Going out with you! Grow up, Draco.” 

She left him staring after her as she walked out the door.

~~~~~~~~~

As Hermione made her way home, she could feel her frustration and anger at Ron, the media, the gossips that kept the media prying into her life, and Draco’s cynicism and jealousy building until hot tears clouded her vision. When she passed a discarded newspaper with a picture of her and Draco, she nearly screamed.

She wanted to leave the city…the country if she could right now. Stopping in the middle of the street, Hermione turned to head for the one place she knew she would never be judged or have to face jealous scorn. 

After the war, she had decided to expand her friendship circle outside of Harry and Ron, and joined a book club. However, she soon found that talking about books with most people proved to be mentally mundane. So, when Luna invited her to a Ravenclaw gathering, she decided to attend. She was pleasantly surprised to learn they met every week and engaged in deep discussions and games revolving around any and all topics, ranging from history to philosophy and epistemology. 

Finally, Hermione had found a group of like-minded peers that weren’t annoyed or jealous of her fondness for knowledge. While Luna and she got along all right, Hermione had a bristly past with Marietta Edgecombe and her friend Cho Chang. Marietta still held a grudge against Hermione, even though the hexed imprint Hermione had left on her forehead had long disappeared. However, after an awkward start, Cho soon warmed up to Hermione. They quickly developed a friendship, spending time together outside of Ravenclaw get-togethers, which gave Marietta yet another reason to dislike Hermione. 

Hermione walked for a good half an hour, avoiding the main streets for fear of drawing attention to herself, until she came to the stone path that lead to Cho’s flat. She didn’t have to knock long before the closest girlfriend she had ever had answered the door with open arms, along with an offer of a box of tissues and a cup of Hermione’s favorite tea.


	8. Clearing the Air

“He said what?” Cho asked Hermione in disbelief as she handed her another tissue.

“Exactly!” Hermione exclaimed, dabbing her eyes once more. “I can’t believe he would say such a thing, especially after the hell I’ve been through the last couple of weeks! Like I would ever want that git back in my life!”

Cho sighed and took a sip of tea. “No offence, Hermione, but if my memory serves me correctly, Malfoy never was the cute cuddly type.” 

“Well, he can be,” Hermione said defensively. “He’s been absolutely charming since we started seeing each other.”

Cho looked at her sceptically. 

“He really has been!” Hermione insisted.

Cho narrowed her eyes. “If you say so… I haven’t seen you this upset since the divorce. What else did he say to you?” 

Hermione bit her lip. She didn’t want to tell Cho about Draco’s jealousy over Lucius, or her concern they wouldn’t be able to reconcile their jealous and possessive natures and work on an amicable arrangement. Though Hermione trusted Cho, she was reluctant to talk about their relationship because she hadn’t even figured it out for herself. Right now, Hermione just wanted to vent about Draco, the press, and Ron. Lucius was another matter entirely, one she wasn’t ready to broach with anyone. 

“That was pretty much it, and then I just walked out,” she finally said.

“Good for you,” Cho said approvingly. 

Hermione stared down at her teacup, thinking of how she had left Draco and whether he would just decide to call it off. The whole thing was starting to feel like a lot more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps it was wise for her to consider calling off the arrangement with both of the Malfoy men. 

When Hermione looked back up, Cho was watching her with concern in her eyes. 

“Hermione, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is it you like about Malfoy?”

Hermione took a moment to reflect. “Well, he’s confident… charming when he wants to be… hell, he’s bloody good looking…”

Cho smiled. “I’ll give you that one, but Hermione, it has to be more than just his looks. He’s obviously under your skin.”

Hermione smiled a little as she thought of Draco and all of the conversations they’d had. “And he’s smart, Cho. Really smart. And when he’s not being jealous or suspicious, he’s actually sort of sweet. He can be very thoughtful and most times he says the right things just when I need it. He also pays attention to little things that no one notices about me.” 

Cho looked surprised. 

Hermione didn’t care. As she stared off, thinking of her and Draco’s interactions over the past few years, she became more convinced that there was _something_ there. It just needed work. 

“And Draco’s the only man, the only _person_ , who never saw me as Hermione, the war heroine or Mrs. Ronald Weasley. He never called me that. I’ve always felt like he saw the real me, and he appreciated me for that. Not because of my friendship with Harry, or the fame I never wanted, but for me.” 

Cho rose from her seat and sat down next to Hermione. “It sounds like you really like him."

Hermione scowled. “I do! This is all Ron’s fault!”

Cho clicked her teeth. “I can’t believe Ron would send such a letter! And he has some nerve following you so he could parrot the same thing to your face… He’s turned into a completely different person!”

Hermione shook her head. “Well, not completely. Ron’s always been a bit insecure. I think he’s always felt second best to Harry, hell, even to me… no, I’m not really surprised in the least he’s let all of this attention go to his head.”

“It’s just really sad,” Cho remarked. “I always remembered him as a jolly sort of bloke. Not this egomaniac! What does Harry think of all of this?”

Hermione looked back at Cho in exasperation. “I don’t know, you tell me! You see more of Harry than I do these days!”

Cho gave Hermione a wry smile. “Not since he married Ginny, and up and quit the Auror department. She keeps him under wraps, especially as far as I’m concerned,” she said with a devilish glint in her eye.

Hermione frowned, wondering if Ginny had somehow persuaded Harry to quit being an Auror because Cho was one as well. 

“Well apparently Ginny has done a good job of keeping him from everyone,” Hermione said. “I haven’t seen Harry since the Ministry Christmas party.” 

Cho gave that another eye roll, looking quite irritated. “Speaking of the Ministry, how’s work going?” she asked in an obvious effort to change the subject.

Hermione shrugged. 

“Well, it must be interesting with so much going on down there,” Cho said ominously with an amused smirk. 

Hermione’s eyes went wide and then she burst into giggles. “Yes, it’s been _very_ interesting!”

Cho giggled with her. “I bet those bints at the office are going barmy talking about you, Malfoy, and Ron.”

“Yes, they really are,” Hermione said wearily. 

Cho patted Hermione’s hand sympathetically. “Well, Hermione, if you want my opinion…” she started.

“Go on,” Hermione urged.

“Maybe, you and Malfoy need some space. I mean, you just got divorced. And the media attention isn’t helping one bit.” 

Hermione nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I told Draco when he first asked me out. I knew it was going to be like this.” 

Cho gave her a knowing smile. “Well, always follow your heart. If he wants you, I mean really wants you, he’s going to have to adjust his ego and trust that you want him too. You’ll know when he’s ready, and if that never happens, you’re better off without him.” 

It was exactly what Hermione had been thinking, but in her heart, she doubted if she would really better off without Draco or Lucius. She felt more alive with both of them than she had in years, and even though Draco needed to grow up a little, she knew for sure that she wanted both him and Lucius in her life. But she wasn’t going to tell Cho any of that right now. Instead she simply thanked her friend.

“I think you’re right,” she said, hugging Cho tightly.

“In the meantime, let’s check out _Witch Weekly’s_ latest list of bachelors; you’ll want to be checking out number three, next.”

“Oh, stop it!” Hermione said, laughing outright.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning when Hermione awoke, she turned on the wireless and to her surprise, and dismay, there was a morning discussion about the Weasley-Granger-Malfoy love triangle. She was about to turn it off when the radio announcer started taking in owls from listeners on the topic.

Wondering what the general public thought about all of this, she couldn’t help but stand near her wireless to listen. 

“Here’s an owl from Ann Reese of Liverpool who writes: I think Hermione has always been the strategic, calculating sort of witch. How else could she fight alongside Harry Potter? She’s probably using them both. I hope young Malfoy isn’t getting too attached to her because when she’s done with him, she’s just going to move onto her next conquest.”

The announcer chuckled. “You have to admit, she has a point about Hermione being strategic; we all know she was the brains in the Trio. What do you think, Shelly?” the announcer asked, waiting for his female co-host to chime in.

“Well, I think that’s a bit harsh. Don’t forget, Ron Weasley is the one who divorced her. Doesn’t she deserve a little happiness? It’s not Hermione’s fault that happiness came along in the form of Draco Malfoy. And let’s be honest here, I think quite a few witches would love to trade places with her.”

Hermione smiled, feeling an instant liking to this Shelly woman. The male co-host didn’t respond but began reading another letter.

“Joseph Giles from Greenwich writes: I’m on Ron’s side. He’s an excellent Keeper, and the Cannons are the best. Why would he want to fight for a bird when he can have anyone he wants? It sounds like his ex-wife was jealous of his fame, and when he got tired of it and dumped her, she went off and found the next best thing so she could keep herself in the news. I say we stop giving Ms Hermione-the-Great-Know-It-All-War-Heroine all this attention. She’s got everyone playing right into her hands.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, and she turned off the wireless. 

_‘Who cares what Ron’s stupid, stupid fans think of me!’_ she told herself, resisting the urge to throw the wireless out of the window before heading off to the shower.

She dressed and headed downstairs to take the Floo, when she heard voices coming from outside of her door. Peeking out the curtain, she saw a few reporters gathered in her yard, some had cameras in their hand. 

Hermione groaned, closing the curtain quickly before they could approach the door. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped insider her hearth to transport herself to work. 

When she stepped out of the Floo into the Ministry’s main lobby, a camera flashed in her face, temporarily blinding her. Before she could recover, a man started asking her questions about her relationship with Draco. Hermione blinked, her eyes coming back into focus. There was a small crowd of reporters blocking her in. She made a move to exit the tight circle to her left, when someone grabbed her sweater. Hermione snarled, withdrawing her wand to hex him, when a team of security men descended on the reporters, dragging them off. Two security guards remained by her side, as she gaped back at the detained reporters in disbelief. 

“How did they get in here?” she asked. 

“Sorry about that Ms Granger, this is a public building,” one guard replied. “But we’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

Hermione nodded curtly and turned to head to her office, still in daze that anyone would care so much about her social life. 

Once she got upstairs, she was greeted with stares and whispers. She scowled at all of them, and made her way to her department, where people were either outright gawking at her or doing a very poor job of looking occupied. Counting the paces to her door, she tried to stay calm and collected until she made it to her office, where she promptly shut the door and fell back against the door in relief. 

Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and walked to her desk to pick up the thickest report she could find. 

She’d been reading for a couple of hours when there was a knock on her office door. Anticipating it to be Abbey or Emily or some other nosy parker, she called out “I’m really busy.”

“Oh, I’ll just come by another time then,” said a familiar deep voice. 

It was Simon Witherspoon, the Assistant Deputy Director of the Ministry. 

Hermione began to straighten up, fixing the papers on her desk as she called out to him, “Mr Witherspoon, please come in.”

The plump balding man she had grown to respect and admire for keeping the Ministry honest and fair in the years since the war opened the door hesitantly, peeking in the office as if he was expecting to be bombarded. When he saw that it was just Hermione he smiled and closed the door behind him. 

“Hello, Hermione,” he said, as he walked over to her desk. 

“Hello, Mr Witherspoon,” Hermione said, standing up and extending her hand to the seat in front of her desk. “Sir, please, have a seat.”

Mr Witherspoon took a seat. “No need for the formalities, Hermione. We know each other well enough. Just call me Simon.”

Hermione felt a giddy spark of excitement that the man who inspired so much fear and respect among Ministry employees was asking her to call him by his first name. “Uh, of course. Simon it is, then. How can I help you?”

“Well, I was just coming by to check in on you,” he said, his eyes showed concern and he was watching her face closely. 

“I’m fine, just fine. Trying to get through the latest report. As you know, the analysis and review are due this Friday.”

“Yes, and it’s a big one too, eh? But that shouldn’t be any problem for you, not with your talent.” 

Hermione smiled at hearing the compliment. “Thank you, Sir, er, Simon.” 

“But that’s not what I was asking about,” he said, his smile waning.

She stared at him for a moment before it clicked. “Oh! You mean _that,_ ” she said with disdain as she thought of the media hounds that had impeded her entry just hours before. 

“I suppose I’m dealing with it the best I can. It’s all so sudden.”

“Yes, I’m sure it must be a bit overwhelming,” Simon commented.

Hermione nodded reluctantly. She hated admitting weakness but the past couple of weeks had been very hard on her and she was sure it was showing on her face. “Yes, it is at times, but I think I’m getting the trick of it,” she said stoically, forcing a smile.

“And what about Draco?” 

Hermione tilted her head. Why was Simon Witherspoon inquiring about Draco?

“I’m sorry, Simon, what do you mean?”

“Well, is it true? Are you two seeing each other?” Simon asked unabashedly.

“Ah…” Hermione started. She wasn’t quite sure. Were they still seeing each other? She and Draco hadn’t really called it quits. They just had a nasty spat, so she supposed that they were. 

“Yes… yes, we are,” she said cautiously.

Simon sat back, sighing. “It’s all quite a mess. The media frenzy, that is.”

Hermione swallowed. “Yes, it is. I’m sorry about all of the... cameras and reporters. I don’t know how to get rid of them,” she said in exasperation.

Simon gave her a sad smile. “Well, I’m sure you’re not _trying_ to get attention. I know you better than that, Hermione.” 

Hermione discreetly exhaled, relieved that at least one person didn’t think she was a media whore. 

“But, it may complicate how the Board views my recommendation for your promotion,” he said with a small smile.

Hermione nearly jumped to her feet at the mention of a promotion. She hadn’t been in her position for more than two years, and the next level was usually reserved for persons who had worked at the Ministry for ten years or more. She’d be the youngest and fastest ever promoted if she got it.

“Simon… are you saying…”

Simon’s smile widened as he nodded eagerly with a fatherly look of pride. “Yes, Hermione, I’ve put in a recommendation that the Ministry strongly consider you for the position of Director for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” 

Hermione clasped her hands to her mouth. “Oh, my… oh… Thank you… thank you, thank you!”

Simon put his hand up, waving it dismissively. “There’s no need for 'thank yous', you’ve earned it! You really are the brightest witch of your age, and you’ve proven it every step of the way. I, and quite a few others, am most impressed with your performance. And the Ministry really could use someone like you in leadership.” 

Hermione couldn’t control the grin on her face, her head still reeling from the news. 

“There’s just one problem,” he said, his voice sombre. 

Hermione’s smile dropped and she leaned forward listening very closely.

“You and Draco…”

Hermione’s heart dropped. “What? They don’t want us to see each other?” she asked incredulously.

Simon shook his head, chuckling. “No, no, no, it’s nothing like that. Of course, you can see whomever you like… It’s just a matter of _how_ you conduct yourself while seeing someone. Right now, the press loves you, a bit too much for the Ministry’s tastes. I don’t have to tell you about our current aversion to media scrutiny. We’ve worked hard to distance ourselves from the press since the war, and restore our credibility with the public.”

Hermione nodded. The last thing the Ministry needed was to have two of its highest profile employees making the tabloids for being involved in a love triangle with a famous athlete.

Simon sighed. “Well, I’m glad you understand. If you and Mr Malfoy are going to continue to see each other, we expect you to conduct yourselves more discreetly. That means no more public spats with your ex-husband or fancy dinners caught on camera. Do you understand?”

Hermione nodded quickly. “Yes… yes, of course, Simon.”

“And don’t worry, I’ll be talking to Draco about this as well; there’s even more controversy about his promotion,” he murmured, staring off the side as if deep in thought.

“Draco’s getting promoted as well?” Hermione asked in surprise.

Simon made an unsure face. “Well, I’m not sure about that one. There’s lots of debate. He doesn’t have a spotless past, as you well know, and he’s made a few enemies in his department with that attitude of his, but still, he does fine work. So, don’t go saying anything just yet. But yes, he is being considered.”

Hermione could not help but smile a little for Draco, and then she remembered she was mad at him and stopped immediately. 

Simon smirked. “I never thought I’d be talking to Draco Malfoy about a possible promotion. Or considering a vote for his father as Head of the Ministry Board of Directors. Things really do change, I suppose,” he said more to himself than Hermione.

But Hermione couldn’t let the last bit go. “What did you just say?”

Simon snapped out of his musings, staring at Hermione. “You heard me.”

“Lucius, er, Mr Malfoy is being considered for Head of the Board?” 

Simon nodded. “It’s down to him and Pius Thicknesse. Who would have ever thought Lucius Malfoy would one day go toe-to-toe with Thicknesse for such a prominent position?”

Hermione unconsciously clapped her hands and grinned, which drew a curious surprised stare from Simon. 

“Well, I see Mr Malfoy already has one supporter,” he remarked, waiting for an explanation. 

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to look serious as she explained her enthusiastic reaction. “Ah, yes, well, Simon, I consider Mr Malfoy as a sort of post-war role model for the old guard. He’s an example of how Purebloods can work to be a part of the solution instead of the problem. He’s been very supportive of a number of Ministry initiatives, including the Restoration Bill and Elf Relief Fund, and I think that his philanthropy speaks for itself.” 

“All good points, and I agree,” Simon said. “I just hope the rumours don’t eliminate him from a chance to show everyone what he can do.”

“Rumours?” Hermione queried.

Simon closed his lips tightly in a gesture that suggested that he didn’t wish to say more.

“Simon, please, if you don’t mind me asking… what rumours are circulating about Mr Malfoy?”

“Now, Hermione, you know I’m not the sort that goes around repeating gossip. Those rumours are just that—rumours. Besides, you’re seeing his son; I’m not sure it’s appropriate to be discussing this.”

“Perhaps, if you told me more, I could warn him, indirectly, of course,” she offered in a business tone.

Simon shifted in his seat uncomfortably. 

“Are these rumours about him hosting kinky parties?” Hermione blurted out, determined to know what could possibly sabotage Lucius’ chance at becoming Head of the Board.

Simon put his hand to his forehead, wiping his brow. “Yes, that’s exactly what they’re about, but you didn’t hear it from me. I hope to the Merlin it’s not true.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Even if it were, that has nothing to do with Mr Malfoy’s leadership capabilities or his commitment to bettering the Ministry!” she defended.

Simon chuckled sardonically. “Why don’t you tell that to the rest of the Board? And while you’re at it, tell all of the self-righteous wizards and witches who still hate Malfoy that as well. They’re just waiting for him to mess up so they can boot him.” 

Hermione nodded in agreement; he was right.

“Between you and I, however,” Simon said in a lowered tone. “I hope it’s not true. I actually like the bloke.”

Hermione gazed down at her desk, wondering how Lucius would react to this news. 

“Oh bloody hell!” Simon cursed as he looked up at Hermione’s clock. “I’m late for my next appointment. It was nice chatting with you, Hermione.”

“You too, Simon,” she said, trying to smile.

“Remember what I said,” he warned as he rose and headed for the door.

“Yes, Simon. Thank you, once again.”

“You deserve every bit of it. I’ll see you soon,” he said quickly as he exited.

“Good day,” Hermione called after him as she went to the door to close it once more. 

A million thoughts were running through her head, but first and foremost was figuring out a way to ensure that they all got their promotions.

~~~~~~~~~

When lunch rolled around, Hermione waited in her office. She hoped, perhaps, Draco would come by and make an effort at an apology, but lunch passed and no one came by.

She tried to delve back into her report, but found it difficult to concentrate due to her hunger. Finally, she forced herself to get up and go to the staff lounge to fix herself some tea.

Thankfully, no one was there, and she quickly went to the cupboard where she was pleased to find a tin full of fresh biscuits that had just been put away. Retrieving two, she went to the counter to make a cup of tea. She stood trying to decide which tea she wanted for several moments before choosing the tin filled with green tea leaves. As soon as she filled her cup with water and performed a heating spell, a familiar drawl spoke from behind her. 

“Do you always drink green tea?” 

Hermione swirled on her heel. Draco was staring at her, his lips tight and thin. He was paler than usual, and almost looked sick, like he hadn’t slept well. 

She stuck up her nose, determined not to let her concern about his well-being make her appear forgiving or contrite.

“Not particularly, but I’m in the mood for it today,” she replied curtly.

“You should try the white tea, it’s better for you,” he said, brushing past her to fix his own cup. 

“That’s highly debatable,” Hermione argued. “Each tea has its own merits. Besides, why do I have to choose? I can appreciate more than one.”

Draco turned around, staring at her mug, a stubborn scowl on his face. “You have to have a favourite, _everyone_ has a favourite!”

Hermione sighed with the understanding that this conversation was not about tea at all. “You’re wrong, Draco. There doesn’t have to be a favourite…”

Draco’s eyes locked with hers as he began to stalk towards her, stopping only inches from her. They stared at each other for several moments and then Draco leaned in. Hermione exhaled in relief, happy that he was finally attempting to apologise. She began to close her eyes, expecting to be kissed only to open them fully to see Draco moving past her towards the door. 

Git. 

Hermione watched his back only for a moment and then turned, her face red from embarrassment. She inwardly cursed herself for letting her guard down so easily.

She listened for the door to open and close behind her, but instead she heard the loud click of a lock and then whispering. Her pulse quickened. What was Draco up to?

Turning around quickly, she let out a yelp as Draco moved in fast and grabbed the wrist of her free hand while he made quick work of prying the mug of hot tea from her other hand, placing it firmly on the counter. 

“Are you sure don’t have a favourite, Granger?” he demanded, pulling her by both wrists towards him. His breath was hot on her face as his stare bore into her.

“No, Draco! I don’t have favourite! I care for you both!”

“Do you?” he demanded, his hands digging harder into her flesh as he drew her even closer so that his lips brushed against her nose.

“Yes, I do!” she insisted, feeling her heart pound from the waves of intensity his urgency created.

“Swear to me, Hermione… swear to me you don’t have a favourite!” he demanded. Hermione felt her knickers dampen to see Draco so commanding and aggressive. She knew she was safe, but like Lucius, he was exerting himself with barely retrained power that made her want to give in.

“Draco, I swear, I don’t,” she said. It was true, right now she didn’t want to choose between either one of them. It didn’t seem fair, they were so different, each with their own assets and faults.

The fire in Draco’s eyes simmered as they took on a sadness she didn’t like. 

“Do you regret it? What happened… all of this?” he asked softly.

Hermione shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

"And what about Weasley?" he whispered angrily, saying the name with much spite. 

Hermione felt her frustration rise once more. “Draco, I don’t want Ron!”

Finally, he loosened his grip on her wrists and leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. They stayed together that way for several moments before Draco dropped her wrists completely, pulling her into a possessively firm hug. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I’m not used to sharing my girlfriend with the entire world,” he said quietly. 

Hermione bit back a smile at hearing him call her his girlfriend and embraced him firmly. 

“You were right; Father and I need to have a chat if this is going to continue. I just need to know a few things.” 

Hermione pulled back to stare at him. “What _things?_ ”

Draco shook his head and looked away, but that only increased Hermione’s determination.

“Draco, I told Lucius this and now I’m going to tell you: Whatever you two discuss, ultimately, I need to agree with it. If you’re going to have conversation about me, about us, I want to be a part of it!”

Draco nodded. “And you will be. But first Father and I need to come to an understanding, all right?”

Hermione nodded hesitantly, watching him. “All right…” 

Draco’s eyes took in her hair, her face, her body, and then finally came to rest on her eyes again. He lifted his hand and began stroking her cheek before gritting his teeth. “Gods, I hate Weasley,” he said at last.

Hermione sighed. “I don’t hate Ron, but I'm not particularly fond of him right now.” 

“I swear to you, Hermione, if he pulls that shit again, I’m going to kick his overrated freckled arse all the way back to Surrey,” Draco warned.

“And I’ll cheer you on,” she said resting her head on his chest. 

Draco squeezed her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Are we better now?”

“Much,” she said, feeling relieved and elated they were back on good terms. 

“Good, then we can…” Draco stopped in mid-sentence, looking around past Hermione. She turned around to see what he was looking at, and then suddenly felt herself being lifted into the air toward the counter.

“Draco! Put me down! What if someone—”

Draco covered her mouth with his hand and squeezed, slapping her now exposed thigh sharply. “Door’s locked and there’s a silencing charm on it. You can scream all you like, just make sure you don’t sass me, all right?” he said gruffly with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

Hermione’s will to resist vanished. She didn’t want to protest or sass him; she wanted him to take her right then and there on the counter. Seeing Draco in control like this had pushed a button and suddenly she wanted him more than she ever had before. Her eyes grew wide over Draco’s hand as he pushed back on the counter and wiggled his way between her legs.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you at work. I’ve even wanked about it…”

Hermione moaned against his hand. 

Draco smiled at her arousal. “You remember when you and I first started working here?”

Hermione nodded, pleased that he had been noticing her for that long. 

“I used to wait for you to come in here to get your tea in the morning. I liked to fantasise about you slobbing down my knob right here, in the lounge…” he said in a sexy low voice, his grey stare set on her as he pulled his long thick cock out. He began to stroke it rhythmically, demonstrating exactly how he used to wank about her. He looked really sexy in his confident lewdness, and she wondered just how long he had desired her.

“And then I’d think about perching you right up here, and shagging your know-it-all brains out.” 

Taking his free hand, Draco pushed her robes around her waist and yanked down her knickers. He grabbed her arse and pulled her closer to his jutting cock. Hermione squirmed, trying to get as close as possible to him. His cock was absolutely stunning in the bright lights of the lounge, pinkish red, perfectly hard and twitching in his hand. Hermione moaned once more against his hand.

“Would you like that? Huh? Want me to shag you right here?”

Hermione nodded, grinding her hips against the counter in invitation, which prompted Draco to lick his lips, as he watched her. 

“You sexy little…” Draco murmured, not bothering to finish as he pushed forward to sheathe himself inside her sopping wet heat. 

“So, fucking good… I love… being… inside of you,” he groaned, holding her tight by the arse as he began driving himself into her with abandon. 

“Mmmm,” Hermione moaned, gripping his biceps and trying to wrap her legs around his back, the heel of her foot digging in his arse, encouraging him on.

Just as her orgasm began to build, Draco froze, causing her to whimper. She had been so close!

“Please…” she whined in agony. 

“Beg me,” he whispered.

“Draco!”

“Beg, Hermione… tell me you need me,” he said, staring at her.

“I do need you. Please… please, let me come.”

“Tell me this is mine!” Draco demanded as he resumed his thrusts. “This is my cunt…”

“Ooooh yes, Draco, it’s yours… all yours!” Hermione gasped as her orgasm hit like a tidal wave. She threw back her head as it rippled through her entire body. 

“Damn right it is,” he grunted in her ear before freezing up, and then groaning loudly to announce his release. 

They clung to each other for several minutes before Draco finally lifted his head and let go of his tight grip on her arse. 

She hummed, smiling at him.

Draco’s face broke into a small smile as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. 

Hermione looked back, straining to see the indentations his fingers had left on her skin. “That’s going to leave a mark,” she said with a smirk.

“Good…” he murmured against her lips before kissing her deeply. 

Hermione threw her arms around his necks, basking in the bliss of coming down from her orgasm and the tenderness of Draco’s kiss. When the kiss finally broke, she sighed, and glanced at the clock. “We’re at work, you know.”

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. “Do you have to remind me? I suppose we should get back to it, then.”

“Yes, we should… but first, I have something to tell you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Right after work, Draco headed straight over to the Manor to talk to his father. He didn’t bother prepping the man by dropping an owl in advance, because he didn’t want to put his father on the defencive. Besides the issue of seeing Hermione, he also wanted to talk to his father about the kinky parties and his pending consideration for Head of the Ministry’s Board of Directors.

When he arrived, Tizzy seemed overjoyed to see him. “Master Draco, you’s home!” 

Draco gave the elf a warm smile as he stepped inside. “I’m just visiting, Tizzy. Where’s Father?”

“He’s eatin’ dinner, I’s fix you up a plate right now!” the elf said excitedly. 

Draco smiled. “Thank you, Tizzy. I’ve missed your cooking.”

The elf smiled appreciatively and then popped out of sight.

When Draco walked into the dining room, he found Lucius sitting at the head of the long dining table, eating alone. His heart sank at the sight of it. The table seemed much too long and large for one man. Suddenly, Draco realised how lonely his father must be living in such a huge house by himself. 

When he stopped at the door, Lucius paused to glance up at his son before continuing to eat silently as if no one had entered. 

Draco didn’t know what to make of his father’s non-response and decided to break the awkward silence. “Father…”

Lucius looked up once more, and finally acknowledged Draco with a curt head bow before taking a sip of wine. 

Draco drew closer. 

“What’s the matter?” Lucius asked, his eyes suspicious.

Draco gave his father a puzzled look. What was his problem?

Lucius huffed. “Oh come, Draco, you wouldn’t be here unless there was something terribly wrong. Either that, or you need something from me,” he said bitterly.

Draco had forgotten how ironic Lucius could be. It always amazed him how a man of such silent stoicism and strength could be so sensitive. He put his hand over his heart in mock offence. “Father, I’m hurt. Did it ever occur to you that I’m here to just talk?”

Instead of replying, Lucius began to cut his meat. After several tense moments, he finally looked up at Draco once more. “Let me guess… this is about Hermione.”

Draco slowly pulled out a chair to sit, at considerable distance from his father. If they were going to have a row he didn’t want to be sitting too close to him.

“I’d like to just… talk. I do miss our chats,” Draco admitted just as Tizzy popped in and placed his dinner before him. 

“Do you?” Lucius asked sceptically. “Is that why you visit so often?” he said sarcastically. 

Draco couldn’t help but avert his eyes from Lucius’ demanding stare. He studied the plate of food in front of him, feeling both guilty and hurt that his father was being so prickly with him. “Father, I’m sorry I don’t visit more often. I’ve been… busy. Work is time consuming and…”

Lucius waved off Draco’s explanation before he could get started. “There’s no need to explain. It’s not as if I’m not lacking for company,” he said hauntily. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “So I’ve heard. Besides Hermione, it looks like you have your hands full planning your monthly festivities,” he said with derision. 

Lucius set his glass down and glared back at his son. “Yes, well, it helps pass the time.”

Draco shook his head. “Father, what are you doing hosting freaky sex parties… here? If Mother were alive…”

“But she’s not,” Lucius said with finality, glaring at Draco.

Draco felt indignation on his mother’s behalf at the callous manner in which his father pointed out her absence. 

“I know that!” Draco hissed. “And you’re doing a fine job of making that clear to everyone. Don’t you miss her at all?” 

“Of course I do,” Lucius said, anger rising his voice.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it! It’s disrespectful to her memory, and to our family name! They’re talking about you, you know.”

Lucius straightened in his chair, his eyes burning with anger Draco hadn’t seen for years. “I beg your pardon, Draco, but you’re not the one who has to live here! Every room of this house serves as a reminder of our life together… of her. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons you stay away. But I can’t avoid it! This is my home… And I live here alone, every day with her memory, so don’t proceed to lecture _me_ about your mother.”

Seeing his father so worked up over his mother’s memory hurt. However, Draco also felt some relief and a sense of restored faith that his father hadn’t completely forgotten her. 

A thick silence lay between them until Draco broke it with a sigh. “I’m sorry… it’s just…”

“Draco, there are things you do not know about your mother,” Lucius said hesitantly.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t think I want to hear this…” 

“I have no intentions of telling you anything she would have not told you herself. But, you should know that I would never do anything in our home that she would object to.”

Draco stared up at his father, not sure what to feel as he tried to picture his mother approving of his father’s interests. Had she shared the same interests? Did she… A shudder ran through him and Draco tried to banish the curious darker thoughts those questions sparked. All he needed to know was that his father had considered his mother’s wishes first. 

“All right, I’ll trust what you’re telling me,” Draco said slowly. “But Father, people _are_ talking, and it could hurt you.”

Lucius’ brow wrinkled. “Hurt me? In what way?”

“There’s word that you’re up for consideration for Head of the Board.”

Lucius scoffed. “Yes, I know, but that’s just talk. It was a nice gesture from Simon Witherspoon, but there’s no chance of it ever coming to fruition, not with my past.”

“No, Father, you’re wrong− it’s between you and Thicknesse, and if what Hermione heard from Witherspoon is true, it’s going to be a close vote.”

Draco watched as his father’s face transformed in a matter of seconds from scepticism to elated surprise and then, finally, apprehension. 

“They’re seriously considering me?” Lucius whispered.

Draco nodded, a small smile fighting its way to his lips. “Yes, Father… they’re seriously considering you.”

Lucius eyes became watery, and Draco had to look away, fearing that for the first time in his life, he was about to witness his father cry. But to his relief when he glanced back up, he saw that his father had managed to compose himself. 

“I’m shocked,” Lucius said, his face reflecting every bit of it.

“Yes, well, I say it’s a good sign that the wizarding world is truly becoming tolerant and letting old ghosts die,” Draco said, unable to hide his excitement. “But Father, old ghosts can’t die if you keep stirring up gossip and myths about our family. You have to be more discreet,” he urged.

Lucius nodded, appearing deep in thought. “Yes… yes, you’re quite right. If there’s even a small chance I could become Head of the Ministry’s Board that would be a tremendous honour for our family… for all Purebloods who were labelled as traitors … it’ll show everyone we’re not the demons they believe us to be, that we can adjust to the new world order just like everyone else.”

Draco smirked. “I’d say better than everyone else.” 

Lucius gave a simpering smile of his own. “Yes, much better.”

A comfortable peaceful silence settled between them as Lucius sat back, a triumphant look on his face. “Can you imagine me, Head of the Ministry’s Board of Directors?”

Draco smiled approvingly. “Yes, Father. I really can.”

Lucius chuckled and then his face grew serious once more. “Draco, I know that’s not the only reason you came here today.”

Draco nodded. “I need to know, what are your intentions with her?”

“My intentions? I should ask you what are yours?”

“I care for her. I have for some time,” Draco stated simply.

Lucius gave his son a dubious look. “Hermione told me you two have just started seeing each other…”

“Yes, but I’ve wanted her for much longer than that,” he admitted. There it was out. And he was glad for it, his father needed to know how important she was to him. 

“I see,” Lucius said, rubbing his chin. “So, tell what’s really on your mind, Draco?” 

Draco took in a deep breath. “I need to know that you won’t try to…” He closed his eyes, forcing himself to say the rest. He had to be clear and get everything out in the open. 

“Father, I love you. And, I don’t want to compete with you for the woman that I care for.” 

“And you think I want to compete with my son?” Lucius asked in surprise.

“No, but… if you’re just seeing Hermione for fun and games, or trying to satisfy your curiosity about dating a Muggle-born, I’ve come to tell you to back off and find another,” he said, steeling himself for a challenge. 

Lucius stared at his son as if looking at someone he didn’t recognise and then his face softened as did his voice. “And what if I told you that I cared for her as well, and that I intend to seriously pursue a relationship with her? What would you say to that?”

Draco swallowed. “If that’s how you really feel, then I’d say we’ll just have to work on sharing her until she decides what she wants… because Father, I am very serious about pursuing a relationship with her.”

“And do you think you really you can share someone you care about, Draco?” Lucius asked. “You couldn’t even share your toys as a child.” 

Draco scoffed. “I’m not a child any more, Father, and she’s not a toy, you know that.” 

“Yes, I do. You’ve grown to be quite a respectable young man,” Lucius said looking at Draco with admiration. “I’m proud of you.”

Draco’s heart swelled to hear his father say he was proud of him. The man’s newfound tendency to express affection never grew old. Draco had waited years for it. 

“You know, I think a _little_ competition is always healthy,” Lucius remarked with a smirk. “It’ll keep you on your toes. You can’t be slacking about with a woman like Hermione Granger.” 

Draco looked at his father in bemusement. “Don’t worry about me, old man. Just make sure you don’t go having a heart attack and end up crushing her. That would be traumatic for both of us.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “I believe I’m in better shape than you are.”

Draco laughed. “In your dreams.” 

Lucius looked amused. “I think it’s time Hermione joined us for this discussion, don’t you?”

Draco nodded, excited about where this was going. What really lay ahead for all of them? He was willing to find out, and now he felt much better about it. “Yes, I agree.”

“Tizzy,” Lucius called.

Tizzy popped in immediately. “Yes, Sir?”

“Please owl Ms Granger immediately and let her know her presence is needed here at once.”

The elf bowed. “Yes, Sir,” she said, running out.

Draco and Lucius only had to wait five minutes before Hermione arrived by Floo. When Tizzy showed her into the dining room, they both rose to greet her, Draco rushing to pull out her chair. 

After she was seated, they both sat down, exchanging a knowing glance between each other before turning their eyes on her.

Hermione was watching them both closely as she folded her arms across her chest. “All right, you two, out with it.”

“Well, you said you wanted to be included when we discussed our... relationship, correct?” Draco asked.

“Yes…” she said slowly, looking between the two of them.

“Shall we have this discussion here, or in the bedroom?” Lucius added with a smirk.


	9. Agreements

Hermione wrinkled her brow in annoyance at Lucius’ cavalier suggestion that they have an important conversation about their relationship in the bedroom. This was a serious matter!

“I’d like to have this discussion properly, right here with our clothes on,” she insisted.

Lucius sighed, throwing a weary glance to her. “Very well. Draco and I have come to an understanding. Perhaps you’d like to hear it?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, looking between the two of them.

Draco turned to look at Hermione with the same focused intensity he had shown in the lounge earlier that day. 

Hermione braced herself for the worst. Did they want to call off the whole thing?

“What is it?” she asked in concern.

“If you will allow it,” Draco began, “We’d like to share you.”

Her anxiety deflated as a wave of relief swept over her. “Well, that’s hardly new,” she said with a bemused smile. “That’s what you’ve been doing!”

“Yes, but we would like to really try our hand at an _exclusive_ relationship, between the three of us,” Lucius added.

“That is, until you decide which of one of us you want to remain with,” Draco said, studying her face.

Hermione’s eyes flickered to Lucius, who seemed displeased with Draco’s choice of words. Hermione suspected that the prospect of her choosing one of them over the other made Lucius uncomfortable.

“Lucius?” she asked.

Lucius gave a stiff nod to show his agreement. “Yes, Draco has agreed to not behave like a spoiled insolent child,” he added.

Draco turned to regard Lucius with an expression of disbelief. “And what about you, Father?”

“What about me?” Lucius scoffed in puzzlement.

Hermione leaned in. “Lucius, you said you had a problem with sharing, and that you weren’t sure if this was going to work.”

Lucius leaned back, sighing. “Yes, I may have said something to that effect.”

“May have? Those were your exact words.” 

“Well, since our chat, I’ve had some time to reflect and I assure you, I can manage,” Lucius said. 

“Oh, and what’s so different now?” Hermione pressed.

Lucius smirked. “If Draco can share, I definitely can.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes at his father. 

“Look, I don’t want this to be a competition,” Hermione insisted.

“It won’t be,” Lucius and Draco both said quickly in unison. 

Hermione looked between them dubiously. 

“We can manage,” Draco continued. “Just make sure that you can,” he teased, looking back at his father with amusement.

Lucius chuckled which elicited an eye roll from Hermione. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” she said resolutely.

“Oh?” Draco said. “As I recall, you said last time that, it was ‘too much’ for you.”

“That was the first night,” Hermione said defensively. “I was, understandably, a bit overwhelmed, but only because I wasn’t prepared and was practically held hostage all night.”

“Hostage?” Lucius scoffed.

Draco laughed. “I’ve never seen a hostage having so many orgasms,” he sneered.

Hermione looked away momentarily, trying to hide her blush. “Well, it’s really a non-issue since I’m sure the three of us will not be sleeping together often.”

Draco and Lucius exchanged a look that made her pause. Maybe she was wrong about that. 

“Not all the time,” Lucius said, “but it may occur on occasion.” 

“Especially, if the opportunity presents itself,” Draco added with a smirk.

Hermione pulse quickened. Although her last encounter with both of them had been exhausting, she had had many fantasies about that particular night since, and was more than willing to test her endurance again. 

“So, are we all satisfied now that we’ve had this little chat?” Lucius asked. “Or are there any more questions?”  
“A few. What about the press?” Hermione asked. 

Lucius frowned. “Well, we needn’t advertise this arrangement.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Hermione asked, still thinking of Lucius’ territorial response from the previous weekend.

“Why should it?” Lucius responded.

“Because, Lucius, I’ll be publicly seeing Draco and privately seeing you,” she explained, watching his face closely.

Lucius face turned impassive as he looked between his son and Hermione. “That’s fine…for now,” he said quietly.

“And what about later?” Draco asked, his eyes focused on his father.

“Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it,” Lucius said stiffly.

Hermione and Draco exchanged a speculative glance as Hermione began to wonder if and when that would become an issue for Lucius. How long could he handle being kept private while Draco would be viewed as her boyfriend? She had her doubts. Before she could contemplate it further, Draco’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“This would be a nightmare if it ever got out,” he said with concern.

“Yes, it would be,” Lucius said with gravity. “And, it doesn’t help that the press is enamoured with both of you. Great care must be taken to ensure that they don’t follow you here,” he said to Hermione. 

Hermione nodded. “I’ve been doing a pretty good job of that. The Floo−”

“Can be traced, if someone tried hard enough,” Lucius warned.

“A trace would have to come straight from the Ministry senior leadership and, as of right now; that's illegal!” Hermione protested.

Lucius sat back, thinking. “I wouldn’t put my faith in the Ministry, Hermione, they’ve been corrupt before, especially where their interests are concerned.”

“Yes, but since we all have close contact with the Ministry, we have some control in keeping our eyes open for that sort of activity. We can control this,” Draco insisted. 

Hermione’s eyes widened as she recalled something. “Did you tell him?” she asked Draco. 

“Tell me, what?” Lucius asked.

Hermione gave Draco a meaningful look, which was returned by an affirmative smile. 

“Yes, we’ve discussed it,” Draco said.

Hermione smiled. “Good, then I suppose congratulation is in order?” she asked Lucius.

Lucius shook his head, a rare and humble look on his face. “Well, not yet, but thank you,” he said modestly. 

“What do you mean not yet?” Hermione asked with determination. “I think we should discuss your strategy for securing enough votes.”

Both Draco and Lucius looked amused at her suggestion, which she found annoying considering the importance of the topic. Campaigning was serious business!

“Perhaps later, but right now, there are other things we need to tend to,” Lucius said with a mischievous look in his eye. 

Hermione glanced at Draco who licked his lips. 

“Oh? Such as?” Hermione asked, feigning ignorance. She could tell from the way they were leering at her that they were randy and wanted to skip talking all together. It made her knickers dampen to think that she was about to have both of them again.

“Such as… dessert,” Lucius said.

Draco gave his father a puzzled look and Hermione’s brow wrinkled in confusion. Maybe she had misinterpreted Lucius’ former statement for sexual innuendo. Pity, that. 

Lucius smirked at his son. “It’s odd, but I don’t believe dessert was served. It usually arrives promptly after the main entree.”

Draco’s confused frown transformed into a wicked grin. “You don’t say? Perhaps the old elf is slipping. I suppose we’ll just have to help ourselves to it.” 

Lucius chuckled, retrieving his wand from his sleeve to tap it on the dining table. Hermione watched as he levitated everything to the side and set it all down beside the table. The air was crackling from the power emanating from both of them. Hermione’s eyes remained fastened to Lucius, waiting to see what he would do next.

“Get up,” he ordered, staring at Hermione.

Hermione glanced between him and Draco, trying to guess at what they wanted to do−here in the dining room.

“ _Now,_ witch,” Lucius said in a steel quiet voice.

Hermione watched him in trepidation as she rose to her feet.

Lucius looked her over slowly from head to toe as he instructed her to undress.

“Here?” Hermione asked in astonishment

“Yes, here,” Lucius said with an uncompromising stare.

Draco clicked his teeth, shaking his head at Hermione. “We did give you a choice, and you insisted we talk here.” 

“Yes, because this is the appropriate place for a conversation, but now that our discussion is over, we can move this to the bedroom,” she said, beginning to turn around.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Draco said, standing up to block her from retreating. “You’ll stand right here, just like Father told you. Now, undress,” he ordered, turning her around by the shoulders to push her closer towards the table. 

Hermione stared at Lucius with wide eyes, trying to ascertain what he could possibly be playing at by having her disrobe in the dining room. She could feel her control over the conversation, the entire situation, slipping, and she was as much bothered by her arousal as she was curious.

“Hermione, don’t make me repeat myself,” Lucius said, his voice laced with subtle threat.

Raising her hands to her blouse, Hermione began to undo each button slowly, feeling waves of anticipation coming from both Lucius and Draco as they watched her in silence. 

She could see the desire in Lucius’ eyes mounting and suddenly, she felt very powerful and sexy. Encouraged by the way he shifted in his seat she slid her shirt off and threw it at his chest with the confidence of a burlesque stripper. 

Lucius’ eyes reflected surprise at the gesture and then he smirked. “And the brassiere?”

Hermione unclasped her bra and slid it off as slowly as possible, enjoying the rapt attention he was giving her until she heard Draco moving in closer behind her. When she felt his hard body pressing against her back, she couldn’t help but wiggle her arse against him. 

“And the knickers,” Draco whispered in her ear from behind. 

“Are we in a rush?” she murmured with a smile.

“Stop teasing!” Draco growled, sending a jolt of arousal to her pussy. She quickly pulled down her knickers and stepped out of them, standing before them proudly, fully nude.

“Lovely…” Lucius said, drinking her curves in with his eyes.

“Lovely isn’t the word, Father; delectable is more like it,” Draco said. 

Hermione glanced behind her and saw that he seemed to be fixated on her arse. He glanced up to give her a heated look full of need that amplified her own. Dining room or bedroom, location be damned. She’d missed this. 

“Get on the table,” Lucius ordered. Hermione hesitated but a swift swat to her arse from Draco made her jump and climb up onto it on all fours before Lucius. 

“Stretch out for us,” Lucius instructed as he stood up, staring down at her. 

She slowly flattened her back against the cool mahogany marquetry table, watching them as she did. Lucius was standing near her feet, and Draco was at her side. 

The heat of their stares warmed every part of her, and hardened her nipples.

“Should I summon Tizzy to bring us some whipped cream? It’d be the perfect topping for such a treat,” Lucius mused.

At that very moment, Tizzy popped before them, to all of their surprise. Hermione bolted up into a sitting position covering her breasts as the heat from her blush spread over her entire body.

“Whip cream at your service, sir” the house elf said, proudly presenting a bowl of whipped cream to Lucius as she scanned the table where Hermione’s barely covered naked form was on display.

“Oh! I is so sorry! Didn’t know you was mating. I’s just be going now,” the elf said in embarrassment.

“Wait, Tizzy,” Lucius instructed. “Leave the cream.”

“Yes, sir,” the elf said handing Lucius the bowl and popped out of sight.

Draco sniggered while Lucius shook his head. 

Hermione scowled at Draco. “That’s wasn’t funny, you embarrassed both of us!”

Draco’s face grew serious. “Are you scolding me? Have you forgotten your place while you’re here?” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “We’re not at a kinky party, nor do we have an audience; I don’t have to do anything either one of you tells me to do if I don’t want to!” she protested, sticking her chin up defiantly.

“Oh, but you _do_ want to, don’t you, witch?” Lucius slid a hand up her leg, inching towards her inner thigh. Hermione tried to fight the desire to open her legs for him, she wanted his hands all over her.

“Of course she does,” Draco said smugly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. His lips trailed up to her ear where he nibbled on her earlobe. She giggled as his mouth made a slow descent down to her neck while his hand began to stroke her breast. 

“Mmmm,” Hermione moaned, laying back down in resignation. This felt too good to resist! 

As Draco continued to stroke and kiss her, Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips on her body. When he pulled back, she felt an instant ache from the loss, and she opened her eyes to see Lucius watching both of them, speculatively.

“A feast should be eaten at the table, don’t you agree?” he remarked to Draco.

Draco smirked. “Yes, Father.” 

Lucius grabbed Hermione’s ankles, pulling her down towards him as Draco took hold of her arms and folded them over her head, making her breasts taut against the air. When Draco’s hot wet mouth descended on her right nipple she cooed with approval. As he began to suck and bite lightly she felt her legs being pulled apart. She peeked through hooded eyes to see Lucius smirking and holding the bowl of cream over her pussy. 

“Don’t you dare move, do you understand?”

She nodded. 

Lucius promptly slapped her pussy, eliciting a squeak.

“A 'yes or no, Lucius' is the proper response. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lucius,” she gasped quickly.

Draco quickly slapped her thigh, making her flinch. “You’ll address both of us properly, or else,” he warned. 

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Draco.”

Lucius dipped one long finger inside of her and withdrew it to take an obscene lick. “Mmm, this dish comes with its own cream,” he murmured.

“Give me that,” Draco said, snatching the bowl of cream from his father. He plopped a large gob of whip cream on each of Hermione’s breasts and set the bowl down on her belly. 

Using his tongue, he swiped the cream off her nipple. “Yum,” he said as he commenced licking off the rest.

Hermione closed her eyes and moaned as Draco continued to feast on her breasts, but her eyes flew open once more when she felt the cool cream drop onto her clit. Lucius was emptying the contents of the bowl onto her bits. She watched as he smeared the cream over her mound with one finger, tracing and smoothing it out. 

“It appears I’ve made quite a mess; I’ll have to clean it up, of course,” Lucius lamented as he sat back down in his seat and pulled up his chair. Gripping both of Hermione’s legs, he pulled her down and spread her open, so that he bury his face into her cunt. 

“Guhh…ahhh…” she cried out.

Draco hummed as he licked the last of the cream off of her right breast and trailed his tongue to the left. 

Hermione gasped as Lucius tongue snaked its way inside of her while sucking on her clit. She began to writhe against his face, struggling against the hold Draco still had on her wrists. It seemed the more she squirmed, the more insistent Lucius became in his sucking and licking.

When he withdrew his mouth to kiss along her inner thigh, she relaxed and sighed, only to let out a yelp in surprise when he returned to his previous task with even more vigour.

Hermione closed her thighs around Lucius’ neck, pulling his face tight against her as she squirmed over his diligent tongue until finally, he pulled away. He stood up once more to pull out his long thick shaft and smacked it against Hermione’s mound. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, squirming to feel him inside of her once again.

“Yes, Hermione? Did you want something?” he asked with a sneaky smile.

Hermione pouted as she fidgeted, her body begging for him to stop teasing. But Lucius seemed to be enjoying himself, watching her struggle as his son held her down like an offering for him.

“Now who’s teasing?!” Hermione spat. Lucius immediately slapped her pussy. 

“You know better, witch. Now, what’s the magic word?”

Hermione growled. His games were infuriating, especially when they made her this hot.

Lucius raised his eyebrows but didn’t say another word, holding himself perfectly still as he waited for her compliance. 

The sensation of the head of his cock resting against her entrance was maddening, and Hermione whimpered, unable to stand much more. “Pleeasseee…”

“Mmm, yes, that’s the word I was waiting for,” he murmured, looking up at Draco. “Do you mind?” he asked, giving Draco a meaningful stare.

Draco stopped what he was doing and released Hermione’s arms. He took a chair with him to sit near the wall in order to widen his view of the scene before him. 

Lucius took his time penetrating her; he seemed to be enjoying the way her body urged him forward. Hermione huffed in frustration when he held himself inside of her, not moving. 

“Please, Lucius, fuck me!”

“Such language,” Lucius scolded mockingly. His face told Hermione everything she needed to know; he was about to give her exactly what she had asked for. He expertly pulled his hair back, stuck his wand in it to hold it together, and placed a kiss to one of her ankles, which was perched on his shoulder. 

She whimpered when he almost pulled out of her before sheathing himself completely inside of her again and again. “Oh, oh yes, Lucius! Yes!”

Lucius grunted as he continued to pummel her, shaking the table with each stroke. 

Hermione clutched his strong arms, having no control over her legs, which were spread and resting on his shoulders. When she looked to her side she saw Draco watching them, his hand steadily stroking his cock in time with each of Lucius’ strokes. 

Draco stared at her lustfully, his mouth slightly open as if caught in a soundless moan. Aroused at the sight of him so turned on, Hermione licked her lips suggestively as she watched him, her eyes darting to the perfect pink cock that mirrored the one inside of her. 

Lucius quickened his pace, rattling her out of her lust filled gaze at Draco. She looked up with a sudden need to show him just how well he was screwing her. “Lucius…oh…” 

Lucius appeared very pleased with her reaction and leaned over to kiss Hermione passionately. She whined as the motion stretched her legs back and he stopped to straighten himself, lowering Hermione’s legs from his shoulders. 

Reaching down to grab her by the hips, he pulled her up into a sitting position. Hermione quickly wrapped herself around him like a cloak, crossing her arms over his back and her legs around his waist so there was no chance he’d slip out of her. They kissed deeply for several moments until Lucius broke it to lift her up and down over his cock, bouncing her in the air as he walked her back towards the wall next to Draco.

When Hermione’s back hit the wall, she looked over to see Draco turn his chair around, his head cocked back as he watched them through hooded eyes, his own ministrations quickening. 

“Pervy bastard,” she moaned, staring at him.

“Yeah? Well, look who’s talking,” Draco grunted as he continued to wank.

Hermione held onto Lucius tight as he began to pound her against the wall. She could feel the intricate circular patterns of the raised paint designs pressing into her back. It didn’t matter though, Lucius hard cock was the only thing her body cared about. She squeezed her legs tighter, trying to give as much as she took . 

Lucius sped up his thrusts and in his frantic clamour to reach his climax he shifted, hitting a special spot deep inside of Hermione that made her cry out as her whole body trembled and froze. She closed her eyes and held on in her daze as Lucius orgasm broke. He groaned loudly in her ear, his fingers digging into her arse.

Hermione threw her head back, and looked down to see Draco looking quite disgruntled. He stood up and made his way over, kissing her full on the mouth.

“My turn,” he whispered. 

Hermione swallowed, feeling drained and thoroughly spent. Still breathing hard, Lucius lowered her onto her feet. Her legs were wobbly from exhaustion, and she stumbled. 

“Can’t stand?” Draco asked, looking at her in concern. “No matter, you won’t need to what I have in mind,” he said, pulling her away from Lucius and scooping her up in his arms to carry her back to the master bedroom. Hermione looked over Draco’s shoulder to see if Lucius would follow and saw him leaning over.

“Is he going to be all right?” she asked in concern.

Draco chuckled. “He’ll be fine; I think you wore him out.”

“I heard that!” Lucius called after them as Hermione and Draco sniggered.

~~~~~~~~~

Hermione enjoyed the feeling of Draco carrying her in his arms down the long corridor leading to the master bedroom. She was lightheaded from her recent orgasm, but the smell of Draco and the feel of his hair brushing against her skin while he carried her in his strong arms was stirring her arousal once more.

“Ready for another go, love?” 

Hermione smiled, not sure of what to say to that question or Draco referring to her as love. But she didn’t have time to think on it further as they came to stand in front of the bed. Draco held her tighter to his chest as he leaned in to kiss her. 

His kiss was full of the same tenderness he had shown her earlier that day, making her melt. They moaned together, kissing for several moments, until interrupted by someone clearing their throat from the doorway. Hermione’s eyes swept to the door where Lucius stood, fully nude. 

“Well, isn’t this romantic?” he drawled staring at the couple, looking slightly jealous.

Draco looked back at his father and turned to lower Hermione onto the bed. “We’ll save the romance for when we’re alone,” he whispered to her. She smiled, warmed by the idea of it.

“Right now…” He paused, peeling off his trousers and his shirt and climbed onto the bed to straddle her. Pushing her arms back, he pinned her to the bed. “I want to shag your brains out. Shall I tie you up?” 

“If you have to,” she said with a smile, squirming playfully in his grip despite wanting him. Enjoying the feeling his arms holding her against the bed, she gave him a good wrestle. He grunted and used his knees to force her legs open so that he could wiggle his way between them. 

“I think I like this better,” Draco ground out as he continued to struggle with her. When Hermione felt his long, hard cock poking her belly, the fight in her dissolved. She sighed in defeat, spreading her legs wider to signal her consent. 

“Yesss,” Draco hissed, moving down to push himself against her wetness. He teased her for several moments with it, making her delirious with lust and frustration.

When he finally sank into her depths, Hermione moaned in satisfaction. She pushed up against him as he began to a slow, restrained, methodical fuck, each thrust communicating everything he seemed to be unable to. Hermione continued to moan, her eyes fixed on Draco in wonder. 

“What?” he asked, his mouth grazing hers, his grey eyes staring unflinching into hers.

She had no words. The way he was moving inside of her now was different, there was more there. She couldn’t speak, only feel.

New weight pressed into the bed, and Hermione looked up to see Lucius staring down at her as Draco continued. 

He was hard again. 

_Damn it!_

“What’s the matter, Hermione?” Lucius asked. ”I hope you’re not tired already?” he asked in mock concern.

“No,” Hermione said with determination, staring up at him. 

“Ooo…Noooo!!” she cried out suddenly as Draco drove back into her hard.

“Good,” Lucius drawled giving her a cheeky smirk as he leaned over to kiss her. 

Like Draco, this time Lucius’ kiss was more tender and full of affection than anything he’d ever shown previously. Hermione felt compelled to lift her head to kiss him back with just as much affection until Draco began to pick up his pace, causing her to whine against Lucius’ mouth.

“Oooh, oh!” Hermione cried out as Lucius pulled away and Draco began rutting her against the bed with long hard strokes.

“Uh, yeah….” Draco grunted, his stared focused on her face, as he continued.

“Oh, Draco!” she gasped, trying to focus on his eyes despite the fact that her vision seemed to blur with each thrust. She felt the smooth head of a cock on her forehead, sliding down her cheek and inching towards her face.

She looked up to see Lucius leaning over her, his thick cock pushing against her mouth. 

“Open wide for me,” he drawled.

Hermione complied instantly, eagerly wrapping her mouth around the head, tasting herself on him as she began to suck. Lucius reached down under her head and began to fuck her mouth the way he had just fucked her cunt. 

She moaned, twisting her hips to meet Draco’s thrusts while trying to tend to the insistent cock in her mouth. When Lucius pulled out, Hermione gasped for breath as he released her head, and began to wank.

“Draco,” she whispered wantonly.

“Yes, that’s it, Hermione, say my name,” Draco urged.

“Draco,” she moaned louder. 

“Just like that. Just. Like. That.” He grunted, letting his head fall into the bed as he continued to work her over. 

Hermione continued to say his name over and over until she felt another orgasm building. She dug her nails into his arms, knowing that this time she’d leave her mark, just as he had left his. 

Draco pulled up his head to look at her face, watching as she began to fall apart.

“That’s it, lioness,” he whispered. “Sink your claws in me while you come.”

“Aah, Dracooooo.”

“Oh, yes,” he said approvingly as he began to pound into her with abandon, his own climax approaching.

“Hermione,” he groaned out loud, exploding inside her.

She held him tight inside her, enjoying the warm sensation of him filling her with his seed. Their skin was wet and sticky against each other, and her heart racing from rush of having two powerful orgasms within a very short time. 

Hermione glanced up as a large, warm hand brushed over her brow and down her cheek. Lucius’ fingers paused near her mouth and she kissed them, looking at him. Draco’s moved to the other side of her face, peppering her neck with kisses that left her smiling from their tickle. 

“That was brilliant,” she murmured. 

Draco pulled back to stare down at her. “You’re brilliant,” he said with a goofy smile on his face. 

“I like seeing you smile like this,” she said.

Draco snorted moving down to continue to kiss her along her chest and down her torso until he came to her belly where he rested his head.

Hermione smiled, combing her hand through Draco’s hair, when he began to tickle her. She burst into laughter trying to push him off of her.

They began to play wrestle until he pinned her once again, both of them breathless. She glanced up to see Lucius looking down at them with a pensive expression on his face. 

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked.

Lucius nodded silently, looking quite sombre.

“Father, lighten up, will you?” Draco bemoaned, returning to tickle Hermione’s sides playfully. She managed to wrangle free of his grip and slapped his hands away so that she could roll onto her belly. 

Lucius reached out to twirl his finger in her curls, watching her with adoration. Hermione blushed to see him looking at her in such a manner, not sure what to make of it. 

When Draco pulled her into a spooning position, his arms around her waist and his face in her hair, Lucius moved down to face her on his side.

They lay there several minutes in silence, listening to each other breath. Hermione closed her eyes, feeling peaceful in her post coital bliss surrounded by her two lovers. 

“Does this mean I get to rest now?” she asked sarcastically. 

“Rest? You’re young, you should be hot and ready at all times,” Lucius said.

Hermione cracked an eye open to look at him. “Lucius, I would have never imagined that you had such a strong libido.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “If you’re referring to my maturity, stick around, witch, you haven’t seen anything yet; I do believe Daddy is ready to play again.”

“Hmmm… Daddy,” Hermione cooed. She had had fantasies about their Daddy-play since the last time and was eager to call him that once more.

Lucius scooted closer, a knowing look in his eyes. “You like being my little girl, don’t you?” 

Hermione smiled coyly and nodded.

Lucius hummed, pressing against her suggestively. “Do you want to show Daddy what a good girl you are?”

Before Hermione could answer, Draco cleared his throat, interrupting. “All right you two, new rule…”

Lucius looked over Hermione’s shoulder to regard his son while Hermione looked behind her to see Draco wearing a look of disgust. 

“No Daddy stuff, not in my company! You can do whatever you like when you’re alone, but not around me.” 

Hermione smirked. “I think someone is feeling neglected,” she teased, looking back at Lucius who chuckled. 

“No, I’m just creeped out.”

Lucius gave Draco an exaggerated eye roll, and settled down to snuggle up to Hermione once more. They kissed, and then he smiled at her. “I think a nap is in order.”

Hermione sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~

When Hermione woke up, it was completely dark. And she was between both of them, Lucius was resting on her breast, and Draco was snoring against her back. She shifted and Draco’s snore broke, and his head shot up.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Hermione shrugged. “It must be late, it’s quite dark.”

Draco got up and walked around the bed, retrieving his wand. He pointed his wand to the torches along the wall and said a powerful ‘Lumos’ spell and climbed back into bed.

Lucius stirred against Hermione’s breast, and she ran her hand over his chest, watching him awake. 

Draco began tracing his finger along her back, outlining the curve of her hip, down her thigh and back again. She looked back at him.

“I want to watch you ride my cock,” he whispered.

“I think that could be arranged,” Hermione replied, turning around to face him. 

Draco pulled her with him towards the headboard. Hermione moved to straddle him as she leaned over to give him a big wet kiss. They tangled tongues until Hermione moved to slide over his cock. Draco held her hips, stopping her. 

“No, backwards,” he whispered. 

“Backwards?” Hermione repeated in question

“Going deaf on me, Granger? I want you to ride me backwards, facing my father, so I can watch that pretty arse of yours while you do it.” 

“Kinky bastard,” Hermione muttered.

Draco slapped her arse hard. “You love it, now turn around for me,” he ordered, pushing her hips in the direction he wanted her to move. 

Hermione steadied herself on the bed with both hands, her eyes settling on a now fully awake Lucius, who was perched up on one elbow watching them both with interest.

She kept her eyes on Lucius as she leaned over and began to sink slowly onto Draco’s cock as he guided her hips. She relished the way Lucius was staring at her; his eyes were intense and full of lust. 

“You are one sexy bitch. Sit up for me,” Lucius ordered.

Hermione did as she was told, pulling back to sit up upright. A moan escaped her as the position shifted her hips over Draco’s hard length. 

“Come on, ride it,” Draco moaned, thrusting upwards, his hold tightening on her hips.

“Yes, ride it, slut,” Lucius repeated. “And look at me while you do it,” he ordered.

Hermione gasped, her eyes locked onto Lucius as Draco began to push up in her with increased vigour. 

“Oh, gods…Draco…” she moaned, her ecstasy climbing as her head fall back.

She gasped when two fingers pulled at her left nipple, forcing her to snap her head back with wide-open eyes. 

“I said eyes on me,” Lucius hissed. 

Hermione nodded and moaned once more as Draco continued to move her hips up and down over his erect shaft.

“Pull your hair up for me,” Lucius ordered, his eyes slowly moving over her torso and back to her face.

“Whaaa-ooh!” Hermione squeaked as Draco hit a particular sensitive spot.

“I said, pull your hair up; I want you to pose for me,” Lucius instructed.

Trying to keep up with Draco’s hard and steady pace, Hermione slowly lifted her arms to pull up her hair. Suddenly, she was very aware that her breasts were bouncing wildly from each of Draco’s thrusts.

“Yes, that’s a good girl, show me what a sexy little whore you are,” he drawled, as his hand wandered down to his cock. 

As Lucius began to stroke himself, Hermione grew more confident and aroused. She twisted her hips with more fervour, pushing her chest out brazenly and holding her hair up atop of her head like she had seen the pinup witches do in wizarding smut magazines.

Draco grunted and Lucius moaned softly as he laid back, keeping his head turned so he could watch Hermione as he stroked himself.

Hermione tried to picture how she probably looked, bouncing up and down on Draco’s cock in front of Lucius and she knew that she looked sexy. She _felt_ sexy, so posing came naturally.

“Now, play with your tits,” Lucius said practically panting.

Hermione complied, entranced by the order. She moved her hands from atop of her head and slid them over her chest, holding both of her breasts, 

Lucius stroked himself faster. “Beautiful minx. You look spectacular riding my son’s cock.”

Hermione let her head fall back and pushed her breasts up like an offering for Lucius. She rolled her neck forward just in time to see him move towards her, his mouth fastening onto her left breast, sucking greedily while his hand pinched her other. She held onto his shoulders as he did, using his arms to brace herself as Draco’s thrusts became more spastic. 

Lucius pulled away and fell back, his long hard cock jutting up, poking at his belly. “Bend over and take me into your mouth,” he ordered.

Draco slowed down, allowing Hermione to lean over as far as possible to swallow his father.

Lucius tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her mouth over him until the head of his cock was taping the back of her throat. She relaxed, trying to breathe through her nose to accommodate him as he began move her head back and forth. 

She groaned when she felt Draco pushing her up and off of his cock as he manoeuvred his way from out from under her to kneel behind her. When she tried to turn her head to see what he was doing, Lucius’ grip in her hair tightened. 

“Keep at it,” he grunted. 

She coughed around his girth, continuing her task while Draco pulled her arms behind her. He dipped his cock in her wetness, but moved up to her narrower entrance. Hermione tensed.

“Relax, just concentrate on that cock in your mouth, all right?” he said gently as he began to slowly work his way into her tight arsehole.

Hermione tried not to tense up and focused on Lucius’ ministrations to her mouth. As Draco pulled back on her arms, pushing farther into her, she gave her best effort to inhaling as much of Lucius’ length as possible. She was nearly overwhelmed. 

“Hmphfff,” she choked trying to keep up with Lucius as he gripped both sides of her head, driving himself in and out of her mouth like possessed man.

Hermione found herself clenching around Draco cock as the pressure of him being in her arse send another orgasm through her body. 

“Oh, gods, Hermione…not gonna last long,” Draco gasped loudly. “So tight.” 

He pulled back on her arms with three more hard thrusts until finally, he came. Lucius followed next, unleashing a feral growl, and coating her tongue with his come. She swallowed quickly as Draco released her arms and collapsed over her back. He rested there momentarily, panting, and kissed her skin lightly before falling over on his side. 

Hermione rose to her knees, staring down at Lucius who lay fully sated on his back. 

“I think I finally have the hang of this,” she said smugly as she fell back, completely spent. 

Draco snorted, moving lazily to lie beside her and Lucius at the foot of the bed where they slept for the next two hours.

~~~~~~~~~

When Lucius awoke, the first thing he noticed was Hermione curled within his son.

Draco held a possessive arm around her waist and seemed quite comfortable with burying his face in her curly locks. They looked so perfect together. It was sobering to behold and once again his previous musings about whether he should step aside to allow his son to pursue a monogamous relationship with Hermione resurfaced. But Lucius couldn’t entertain that thought seriously for very long. He wanted her as well. She had brought a bright spot into his life where there had been a void for too long. He didn’t want to give that up. 

The thought of being her private lover while Draco was recognised as her boyfriend irritated him. However, he was willing to put up with it until she figured out what she wanted, or at the very least until he made Head of the Board. Depending on how their relationship developed, he decided that they’d have to revisit their conversation. He could live with going public about their triad, but he wasn’t sure that either Hermione or his son could. 

Draco shifted, and raised his head, cracking his eyes open to peer at his father. He gave Lucius a small smile, and Lucius returned it. He was secretly happy to be sharing something so special with his son. While he knew it was perverse, Lucius also understood that this was the closest they had ever been, and it was all because of Hermione. 

She opened her eyes, stretching, and sliding her foot up Lucius leg. “Ready for another go?” she said brazenly.

Lucius chuckled. “We’ve created a monster.”

Draco genuinely laughed at that. “What do you say we make this a two-day affair,” he proposed.

Hermione turned her head to regard him. “Draco, we have work tomorrow.”

Draco huffed. “Just owl in sick for once in your goody-two shoes life!”

“We’re up for promotions! This is not the time to take off from work!” she insisted.

“You’re up for a promotion. I could care less,” Draco said dismissively.

“Draco!” Hermione and Lucius scolded together. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, then we really better get some sleep.”

At that moment there was a knock on the bedroom door. They all looked at each other quizzically. 

“What is it, Tizzy?” Lucius called. 

“Sir, there’s people here to see you,” Tizzy said from behind the door.

Lucius got up, going to his wardrobe to get a robe and slip into his house slippers, and opened the door to greet a nervous looking Tizzy.

“Sir, I’s told them you were busy, but they insisted you come to the door right away,” the elf said anxiously.

Lucius looked back at Hermione and Draco, who began to rise. 

“Who are they, Tizzy?” Draco asked.

“They’s Aurors, Master Draco,” Tizzy said in a squeaky voice.

“Aurors?” Draco repeated, his face becoming concerned as he began to dress quickly. 

“Draco, stay here,” Lucius instructed.

“But, Father…” Draco protested.

“Draco, please, stay with Hermione, I’ll handle this,” Lucius said.

Draco gave Lucius a frustrated frown, but didn’t follow him.

Lucius turned and walked out, making his way down the long hallway to the front door. His curiosity grew as he began to consider what Aurors could possibly want with him at this hour. Everyone he cared for was in his bedroom. 

When he reached the door, there were two Aurors waiting for him, one was a rather young looking clean-cut wizard with brown hair. The other was an older, dark haired man whose face appeared rather unfriendly. 

“Hello, Mr Malfoy,” the younger brown haired wizard said. “My name is Stephen Fry, and this is my partner Donavan Mills.”

“Yes, well, what brings you here at this hour?” Lucius asked suspiciously.

“May we come inside?” Fry asked, trying to peer over Lucius’ shoulder.

“What’s this about?” Lucius asked, not moving from blocking the door.

“Sir, we’d like to ask you some questions,” Fry continued.

“About?” Lucius asked. 

Fry looked at his partner, whose hard eyes held judgment in them. 

“We’re investigating a murder,” Mills said flatly.

Lucius eyebrows rose in surprise. “A murder investigation?” 

“Yes sir, a young woman was murdered tonight.” Fry frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but what does this have to do with me?” Lucius asked.

“Sir…” Fry started.

“She was found tied up, gagged, and choked to death. And she had this in her purse,” Mills said bluntly, going into his robe to draw out a black envelope to hand over to Lucius. 

Lucius stared back at the wizard for a moment before accepting the envelope. He kept a steady palm and his face neutral despite feeling his heart race with recognition of the insignia adorning the envelope. He didn't have to look inside; he knew the envelope all too well − it was an invitation to his last BDSM party.


	10. Heat

Lucius stared at the invitation for several moments before looking up at both of the Aurors with a careful stony expression. He understood that this could be devastating to his reputation. But much more important, right now, was finding out which one of his guests had met an unfortunate demise. 

“May I inquire who the victim was?” he asked.

“Sir, we’ll ask the questions,” Mills said curtly.

“Christina Van Buron,” Fry said quickly, to his partner’s evident annoyance. 

Lucius was nearly shocked speechless to hear the name. He couldn’t believe that a long-time friend of his and Narcissa’s was dead… murdered. He gasped. “Christina?” 

“You know her, then?” Fry asked.

“Yes, of course, she and I were old friends.” 

“Old friend, huh? Where were you tonight between 8pm and 11pm?”

Numbly Lucius replied. “Right here.”

“Can anyone vouch for you?”

Lucius paused. “Yes, my house elf… Tizzy.”

Mills snorted. “Of course, your elf would.”

“Pardon me, but am I under suspicion?” Lucius asked, suddenly very distrustful of this Mills person.

“Everyone is under suspicion, right now,” Mills said, glaring back at Lucius.

The man’s vehement posture was almost funny and Lucius had to remind himself it would not help him if he laughed in Mills face.

“I see,” he replied calmly.

“Mr Malfoy, I’m sure you understand that we need to conduct a thorough investigation. Can you tell us how you knew the victim?” Fry asked gently.

“As I said previously, we were old friends.”

“Do you recognise the envelope at all?” Fry asked carefully.

Lucius nodded slightly, staring down at it. It was clear to him that the two Aurors were playing off of each other to try to get the most information out of him. Mills’ prickly disposition was an obvious attempt to underscore Fry’s supposed trustworthiness. They were acting out their roles well, but not skilful enough to fool a keen Slytherin like Lucius. He stood for a moment, contemplating all the directions this investigation could veer. It could go very badly very quickly, he had to be careful.

“Let’s cut the small talk. Mr Malfoy, is this an invitation to one of your parties?” Mills asked accusingly.

Lucius opened his mouth and then closed it, considering the invitation. Mills was watching his face for any signs of deceit. There was only one way to deal with this.

“Yes,” he said finally. “This is an invitation to my last party.” 

“So, it’s true, you do host… kinky parties?” Fry asked awkwardly.

“Yes, once a month,” Lucius said simply. “The last one was nearly three weeks ago.”

“Sir, we’re going to need a list of everyone who attends these parties.”

Lucius shook his head. “No, absolutely not.”

“Excuse me?” Mills asked with a threat in his voice. 

“I said, no,” Lucius’ said firmly. “I’ve sworn confidentiality to anyone who attends my events. I won’t go back on my word.” 

“You have no choice, this is a murder investigation! If you do not cooperate, we’ll bring you in for obstructing justice, unless you have something to hide,” Mills sneered.

Lucius sighed. “Obviously, I have nothing to hide; I just informed you that this is my invitation and that I host monthly parties. I’m willing to do what I can to help you find out what happened to Christina, but I will not divulge my guest list.” 

“Listen, you don’t get to—” Mills started.

“Mr Malfoy, we understand the difficult position you’re in, but if you could please cooperate,” Fry cut in, trying to reason with Lucius.

Lucius was sympathetic to Fry’s plea and really did want to offer as much assistance as possible to find Christina’s murderer. 

“If you will, let me think on this, and see if there’s a way I can help you without compromising my word. Can you come back tomorrow evening?”

“No!” Mills replied.

“Perhaps,” Fry answered at the same time. 

They looked at each other. Mills seemed quite put out by his partner’s willingness to cooperate with Lucius. 

Fry turned back to regard Lucius. “Yes, Sir, we can come back tomorrow.” 

Mills gave Lucius an irritated glance before addressing his partner. “We’re going to lose time playing things his way!”

“It’ll take us just as long to have the Wizengamot issue a subpoena to get the list. Let’s just come back. We’ll be in the same place either way,” Fry reasoned. 

Lucius watched closely as Mills contemplated his partner’s words before relenting. “All right, fine, whatever, but this is your call if all goes to shite.” 

“We’ll be back tomorrow, Mr Malfoy,” Fry said with a head nod.

Lucius gave Fry a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll do whatever I feel I can to help you.” 

“6pm alright?”

“6pm is fine. Good day, gentlemen,” Lucius replied, giving a slight head nod to Fry and throwing Mill a steely glare before shutting the door. 

When he turned around, Hermione and Draco came rushing out from behind the wall of the parlour towards the foyer.

“What did they want?” Draco demanded.

Lucius glanced between the two of them. “I need a drink,” he groaned.

“What is it?” Hermione asked anxiously, as she and Draco followed him to the bar where he poured them all their drink of choice. 

“One of my dear old friends has been murdered,” Lucius said slowly, still in shock from the news of it.

“Murdered?” Draco and Hermione repeated together.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “And what does this have to do with you, Father?”

Lucius took a sip of his drink, steadying himself against the bar. “They found an invitation to my last party in her purse.”

Hermione gasped. “Lucius, oh no…”

“Oh yes, Hermione.”

“They can’t possibly think that you did it!” she said.

Lucius shrugged. “I’m not sure that I’m completely clear in their eyes. I used Tizzy as an alibi, but that’s the least of my worries right now.”

“What could be worse?” Draco asked apprehensively.

Lucius sighed. “They wanted a full guest list for my parties.”

Draco looked relieved. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Then, they can go after whoever really did it and leave you out of it.”

Lucius shook his head. “No, Draco, I didn’t give them the list.” 

“What? Why not” Draco demanded. 

“Draco, do you know what kind of scrutiny everyone on that list would be under? What kind of exposure such an investigation could bring on them?” Lucius explained.

“Exactly, Father! That means less scrutiny on you! Do I have to remind you, you’re up for Head of the Board of Directors? You’re already going to be under a magnifying glass. This sort of attention could be disastrous!”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “For whom? You or me?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Father, just give them the damned list.”

“No. I made a promise to all of my guests that their attendance would never be revealed. Some of them have no choice but to live a secret life. The general public does not accept our lifestyle, and it could ruin reputations and careers.”

“Including yours!” Draco exclaimed.

Lucius scoffed, turning away from his son.

“Lucius, there must be a way to help them with the investigation and not go back on your word to your guests,” Hermione reasoned. 

Lucius nodded, taking another sip of his drink. “There are several things I could do, the first would be withdrawing from the Board.”

“No!” Hermione and Draco protested.

“The second,” Lucius continued, “is to contact each guest and ask if they would agree to come here to be interviewed by the Aurors.”

“I don’t understand,” Draco said. “Isn’t that the same as giving the Aurors a guest list?”

“No, anyone who didn’t want to be interviewed could decline. And those who choose to be interviewed would be protected from exposure in front of their family and friends during the investigation,” Lucius explained.

“Father, just give them the list! End this charade now before it blows up in your face!”

“Draco, I’m not going to argue with you about this. I’ve made up mind—I will not share the guest list with the Auror Department. The answer is no, and that’s final.”

Draco’s lips thinned into an angry scowl. “You’re so bloody selfish and stubborn! You’re going to ruin everything!”

Lucius held his head up high. “At least my integrity will be intact.”

“Your integrity?” Draco scoffed. “What about our family name? If you were worried about media attention before, what do you think this will result in? The press will have a ball, at your expense. And you’re not the only one who will be bombarded with questions and gossip. Everything you do affects me; it always has!” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Lucius asked, staring at his son.

“No, I don’t think that you do. Or perhaps you just don’t care. You‘ve always put yourself first and damn anyone else who falls victim to your poor decision making!” Draco spat.

Lucius stared down at his drink in thick silence, determined not to look at Hermione during this very unexpected and intimate exchange with his son. “So, it finally comes out. I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time,” he said quietly.

When he finally looked up, Draco’s face was strained.

“Father, if you’ve learned nothing else from the war, I would have hoped you’ve learned to think about how your actions can hurt others.”

Lucius and Draco stared at each other for several moments. “I have learned Draco, and, believe me, I regret what happened to you every day, but I cannot change the past. This decision has nothing to do with you. It won’t destroy you, but it can destroy the lives of those I’ve promised anonymity. I will not allow that to happen, not for you, not for an investigation, and certainly not to earn a cushy position on the Ministry’s Board.” 

Draco slammed his drink down, and turned to walk briskly towards the hearth. 

“Draco, please come back,” Hermione pleaded.

“Let him go,” Lucius said to her, ignoring the pang in his chest. 

Hermione looked back at him just before Draco said his address loudly and threw down a fist full of Floo powder, disappearing in a whirl of green flames. 

Lucius walked slowly to the couch and sat down to stare at the empty hearth. 

“Lucius…”

“Draco and I… what you heard… it’s been a long time coming. I’m just sorry you happened to be here when it finally came out.” 

“He’s just upset, right now,” she offered as she took a close seat beside him.

“Yes, and, he has every right to be, about _that_ , but not about this. This is my life, and I have the right to ruin it in order to do something right, for once,” Lucius said with conviction.

Hermione reached out to stroke his arm. 

Lucius relaxed when she did, reclining into the couch with a deep sigh. “I’ve made many mistakes…” he began hesitantly, feeling a bit unsure about sharing something so intimate with Hermione. Then he remembered she had already witnessed one of the most private and revealing conversations he’d ever had with his son, there was no need to hide anything now. 

“Sometimes, I think I deserved much less than what I received. I could be rotting away in Azkaban or dead, and it would be just,” he said quietly.

“Lucius—” Hermione started

Lucius covered her hand with his own. “I can live with what I’ve done, I’ve made peace with it. Draco will have to make peace with it… with me… in his own way. But this has nothing to do with him. “

“He’s just worried about you. He wants what’s best for you.”

“This is what’s best. For once, I have a chance to do something right and protect others,” he said.

“It takes a lot of courage to do what you’re doing,” she said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

When Lucius looked into her eyes, he was rendered temporarily stunned to see so much admiration there. A rush of pride filled him to receive such affirmation from someone like her. _Especially_ her. 

“It’s easy to be brave when you have outstanding examples in your life,” he said. 

Hermione blushed. 

“You were brave when others were not. Sometimes I wonder why are you seeing me? How can you reconcile what we have now with what I was and what you experienced here?”

Hermione stared down at his lap, her face pensive. “Lucius, I learned a long time ago, it takes far too much energy to stay angry and much less to forgive. Anger eats away at you. It changes you, until one day, you’re someone you barely recognise.” 

Lucius gazed back at her in understanding. She was speaking about him, his life before the war had ended. 

“I didn’t want to become that. I believe… no, I _know,_ everyone can change. I’ve seen it; good and bad. And after watching you transform yourself after the war, seeing what your passion and commitment can yield when you work for what’s right, I can say for certain that I know you’re a good person, and that I believe in you.”

A warmth settled in Lucius’ chest. Her words had deeply touched him and he had catch his breath discreetly for fear of looking terribly affected by her words. He offered her a small smile, placing his hand over his heart half-jokingly. “Are you trying to choke me up?” 

“No,” Hermione smiled, scooting even closer to him so that she could reach up to stroke his face.

Lucius leaned into her, his shoulder brushing against her as he pressed his cheek against her hand. “It’s amazing how much you’ve grown. You’re a beautiful young woman, inside and out.”

Hermione blushed. 

He squeezed her hand. “I haven’t felt this way about someone in a very long time.” He swallowed. 

“What is it?” she asked gently. 

“Hermione, I’m grateful that we have had a chance to get to know each other better. After Narcissa died…”

Hermione stiffened. Lucius kissed her hand, holding it tightly to reassure her. 

“After she died, I had given up hope of finding someone to care for again. You’ve changed that. You’ve changed everything.” 

“I care for you too, Lucius, very much,” Hermione said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He closed his eyes, enjoying the caress of her lips and then turned his head to return the kiss. 

It was soft, tender, and delicate, and he couldn’t help but sigh. Kissing her felt like coming home. It was so right and natural that he wondered how he had gone this long without her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as their tongues began a sensual dance. When Lucius felt his nature start to rise, he pulled away.

Taking a moment to admire the fresh flush in her cheeks, he was pleased to see that she appeared equally affected.

He smiled wistfully. “You know, truthfully, I started hosting these parties because the Manor felt empty. I got tired of coming home and talking to Tizzy. Don’t get me wrong, she’s great company but…”

Hermione smiled.

“Well, I think you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do,” she said.

“Perhaps, their purpose is over,” Lucius continued. “It’s incredibly risky, and now that I’ve found a submissive… a partner… what’s the point?”

“Lucius, the point is that you enjoy hosting these parties, and it’s obvious they’ve become an important part of your leisure,” Hermione insisted.

Lucius thought on it. “Yes,” he admitted, “but−”

“But nothing! Since when do you back down just because of a little bad press or danger? You said it yourself: These parties are the only safe place for some people. I would have never discovered this side of my sexuality if I hadn’t attended,” she pointed out. 

Lucius smirked. “And what a crime that would have been.”

Hermione smiled. “Exactly! Don’t give it up on this. They obviously make you happy, so we’ll just have to figure something out.” 

Lucius shook his head. “Hermione, you may be brilliant, but I’m not so sure you can figure a way out of this.”

“Just give me a day, all right? Twenty-four hours, and I’ll think of something,” she said resolutely.

Lucius looked at her sceptically before nodding. “All right, but you have less than twenty-four hours; the Aurors will be here tomorrow at 6pm.”

“And so will we, with a plan,” Hermione said with determination.

~~~~~~~~~

The next day when Hermione arrived at work there were many whispers, but this time they weren’t about her, and for that she was grateful. Instead, the latest gossip was about the murder of the high profile socialite Christina Van Buron.

Hermione pretended not to pay it any mind. However, as soon as she could close her office door, she read the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ with the same intense eagerness as everyone else.

 

_**Murder or Freaky Sex Gone Wrong?** _

_In a bizarre murder investigation, socialite Christina Van Buron was found bound, gagged, and asphyxiated in a private room of London’s infamous alternative adult club, ‘Hogtied’, on Saturday night. Due to the nature of the crime, it is unclear whether the initial act was consensual or not. There is even some speculation she could have been the victim of her own willful, bizarre sexual fetish, but Aurors are now ruling the case a homicide. They are currently investigating persons of interests who have known proclivities and ties to sexual deviant clubs in and around Britain._

_Rita Skeeter_

 

Hermione read on as _The Daily Prophet_ described Aurors making a list of persons of interest who may have known ties to the “seedy dark underworld” of BDSM. To her relief, Lucius’ name was not mentioned. Below were other related articles. One on sexual deviants, another on the dangers of practicing BDSM, and, finally, a list of all of the sexually infamous murders that had taken place over the last decade in Great Britain. 

She frowned. Skeeter obviously held a blatant bias against unconventional sexual practices and viewed anything outside of the missionary position as abnormal. 

There was a knock on her door. “Come in,” she called, folding up the newspaper and pulling out her current project. 

Draco entered, his shoulders slightly slumped and his hands in his pockets. 

“Draco!” she said in surprise.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “I was wondering… what are you doing for lunch?”

“Oh, um,” she gave him a small smile. “I have a very important lunch appointment, today. Perhaps, we can do dinner?” she offered.

Draco gave her a small smile. “All right, sure, I’ll pick you up around seven then,” he said, turning around.

“Ah, no,” she said quickly.

Draco turned back around with a question on his face.

“I was thinking that perhaps we could have dinner at the Manor tonight,” she said, waiting for his protest.

A weary expression crossed Draco’s face. “Hermione, don’t try to fix this. Father and I will work out our own problems. I just wanted to have a nice quiet evening alone, with you.”

“I see. Well, the reason I suggested the Manor is because the Aurors will be dropping by at six and I don’t think your father should do this alone.” 

“He wants to do it alone!” Draco snapped. “That’s his choice. He doesn’t have to do it this way.” He closed his eyes, calming himself. “All of this could be avoided if he just−”

“Draco, he’s not going to do it, so just drop it and support him! That’s all you can do, right now. Can you be there tonight or not?” Hermione asked.

Draco sighed. “I don’t know, I’m not even sure he wants me there.”

Hermione rose from her desk and walked over to him. “He’s not angry with you, Draco. You really should talk to him,” she said gently.

Draco’s eyes softened. “Perhaps, later,” he said, grabbing her around the waist, giving her a small kiss.

She smiled against his lips, happy that he was being more reasonable. 

“Six, tonight?” he asked.

“Yes, but perhaps you can meet me at my house around five? I’d like to talk to you before we go over.” 

Draco smirked devilishly. 

Hermione smacked his arm. “I’m serious, Draco. I just want to talk!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Right. See you at five, then.”

~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes to lunchtime, Hermione left to meet Cho on the South part of town where she was doing her rounds. They greeted each other with a firm hug and found a small table tucked away.

“Well, this was quite a surprise. You’ve never contacted me for lunch before,” Cho remarked after the waiter took their orders.

“Well, I hope it’s alright?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s great. In fact, we should do it more often!”

Hermione nodded. “I agree, but I’m afraid this isn’t really a social lunch.”

Cho frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Cho…” Hermione bit her lip.

Cho leaned in curiously. “What is it, Hermione?” 

Hermione sighed and took a drink of water.

“All right, now you’re scaring me,” Cho said, staring at Hermione apprehensively.

“Cho, I have to tell you something because, I don’t know what else to do and I think you can help me.”

“Whatever I can do to help you, I will. What is it?”

Hermione nodded, staring back at her friend. “All right. Have you heard anything about the Christina Van Buron murder?”

Cho straightened. “Hermione, that’s confidential. I’m not even assigned to that case.”

“I know, but it’s well known Aurors run thick as thieves. You must have heard something by now.”

“Hermione, does this have something to do with Draco?”

“No,” Hermione said emphatically, before sighing. “Not really.”

Cho stared back at her confused. “Not really?”

“You have to promise you won’t tell.”

“All right,” Cho said anxiously.

Hermione closed her eyes. “Cho, I’m in a relationship with Draco and Lucius.”

“What?” Cho shrieked her eyes almost as wide as saucers.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Hermione whispered, glancing around. “I’m seeing both of them.”

“They’d kill you if they found out!”

“Cho, they know. We’re all in it, together,” Hermione forced out.

Cho gaped back at her in shock. “That’s… that’s mad! Hermione! How? When?”

Hermione shrugged. “It just happened about a month ago.”

Cho stared at her with incredulity. “Hermione, things like this don’t just happen! They’re father and son for Merlin’s sake! That’s incest!” She grimaced.

Hermione pursed her lips, shaking her head. “No, it’s not!”

“It is so!”

“No, it’s not!”

Cho pulled back, staring at Hermione with disdain. “It is.”

When the waiter came with their food, they mumbled their 'thank yous' and waited in tense silence until he turned to tend to another table. 

Hermione unfolded her napkin as she spoke. “I know what you’re thinking, but they don’t interact in that way at all. They just… share me.”

Cho stared at Hermione in amazement. “Share you? I can’t believe you! I didn’t even think you—” she stopped mid-sentence as if catching herself. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t even think I _what_ , Cho?”

Cho swallowed. “Well, I always thought that you and Ron split because you had… sexual problems,” she whispered shamefully, averting her eyes from Hermione.

Hermione scoffed in disbelief. “You actually believed that rubbish _The Prophet_ printed?”

“Hermione, you know I know better than to have any faith in what _The Prophet_ says! But not once in all of the time I’ve known you have you ever spoken about being intimate with Ron. In fact,” Cho pondered, “you never talk about sex at all. I suppose I thought it wasn’t something you were really interested in. So, when the rumours started about you being unresponsive in bed… well…”

Hermione huffed. “I was unresponsive all right, because Ron was! He’d just lay there!”

Cho gasped and then sniggered, her eyebrows raised. 

“Oh, yes!” Hermione continued. “Ron actually expected me to do all the work. Well, he was fool to think such a thing. Not after I work all day! Sex is a mutual experience. If he was going to just lie there, well so was I!” 

Cho covered her mouth, giggling before her face grew sober once more. “So, you went from having bad sex to sleeping with two blokes? And Malfoys at that! Hermione, you can’t seriously see both of them.”

“And why not?” Hermione asked defiantly.

Cho levelled a serious stare at Hermione. “I’ll tell you why… because, eventually, you’ll have to choose. And when you do, someone is going to get hurt. They’re family, Hermione. Blood is thicker than anything. You’re setting yourself up. Either you’re going to get your heart broken or you’re going to tear them apart, and the one you’re left with will resent you for it.”

“You don’t you think I’ve considered that?” Hermione asked. “I have. And you’re wrong. It’s not like that at all. We all care for each other very much.” 

Cho looked at her sceptically. “Hermione, this just doesn’t seem like you. It’s so radical.” 

“Yes, well, I’m tired of being Miss Prim and Proper. Both of them make me very happy, and we enjoy each other. And Cho, it’s not just the sex; it’s everything. They don’t a problem with it, and neither do I. Anyone else can just go to Hades!” Hermione said tersely.

Cho stared at her friend for several moments, while Hermione took an angry bite of her sandwich.

“Well, I can see you have your mind made up,” Cho said softly at last.

“I do. Cho, I’m falling in love with both of them,” Hermione confessed, her eyes searching her friend’s for support.

Cho took a deep breath, placing her hand over Hermione’s for a few moments before speaking. “Well, no matter what happens, Hermione, I’ll be here for you.”

Hermione gave her friend a small smile, feeling more than slightly relieved. 

“Thank you.”

Cho glanced around. “Well, I supposed then, you should know there is suspicion about Lucius being involved in the Christina Van Buron murder.”

“But why?” Hermione asked.

Cho sighed. “Old grudges die hard, Hermione. A lot of people in the Auror Department are still bent out of shape about him falling into the good graces of the Ministry and making the Board. They don’t think he deserves to be on it at all. They believe once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.”

Hermione’s anger rose at the intolerance of those who were sworn to uphold justice. “Hypocrites, the whole lot of them. Half of them were sympathisers during Voldemort’s rule!”

Cho nodded. “Yes, but Lucius isn’t exactly helping things by hosting kinky parties and such!”

“Cho, those parties are harmless! People like you and I attend them. That’s where I first became better acquainted with both of them,” Hermione admitted.

“You actually attended one?” Cho asked, stupefied.

“Yes. It’s a long story and perhaps I’ll tell you later about it, but right now, lunch is almost over and I need your help.”

“Go on.”

“I need to ask you a favour.” Hermione said.

Cho leaned in close to listen. It wasn’t long before a curious smile grew on her face as Hermione laid out her proposition.

~~~*~~~

Hermione and Cho spoke for the next half an hour, and then Hermione had to rush straight back to work for a few more hours before leaving promptly at four-thirty in the afternoon.

She took a shower and changed, and was ready to go by the time Draco arrived. When she opened her door, they greeted each other with open arms, and Hermione noticed that he looked much calmer. They kissed for a few moments until Hermione pulled away with an excited grin on her face

“What is it?” Draco asked suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning around to lead him back to her living room where they took a seat on her couch. 

“I’ve known you long enough to know that look. Some things haven’t changed since school. I can tell that you’re up to something.”

Hermione smiled. “I may have something up my sleeve,” she said mysteriously.

“Spit it out, now!” Draco demanded.

“I will, but first I wanted to talk to you about your father. Before we even go over or the Aurors arrive, you should know that he and I spoke for a long time last night, after you left.”

“Oh?” Draco said, taking his eyes off of her to stare ahead.

“Draco, he’s not going to change his mind about what he’s doing, but if he thought for one moment it would seriously put you at risk or damage your reputation, he would do anything he could to prevent that.” 

Draco didn’t look at Hermione as he nodded. “I know that.” 

“Do you? Because, he thinks you’re angry with him.”

Draco sighed. “I was, but it’s complicated. It’s not just about this murder investigation.”

“You should talk to him, then. I’m going to stay out of it and let you two figure it out.”

Draco shook his head. “Hermione, if you really want both of us, then you’re going to have to learn to deal with everything that comes with that.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“Father and I have many unresolved issues; conversations that need to be had. You had the misfortune of seeing one of those.”

Hermione watched him, listening closely. 

Draco turned to gaze at her, giving her the slightest of smiles. “And, I think you were the reason we had it.”

“What do mean?”

“Your presence. Somehow, you being there made it easier for me to say what I said to him last night.” 

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I want to be given credit for that!”

“I know what I said probably sounded nasty, but it needed to be said. There’s something you need to know about Father and I.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Gods, I can’t believe I’m really telling you this…”

Hermione remained quiet, afraid that any slip of her tongue would make him change his mind. Draco rubbed his thumb over his lips, seemingly in deep contemplation as he stared at her for several more moments before speaking. 

“My father has always been larger than life to me. I’ve always lived in his shadow.” 

Hermione kept her eyes on him, offering silent encouragement.

Draco bowed his head, staring at the floor. “I’ve never had the courage to stand up to him or tell him when he’s made me angry. I’ve always been afraid.”

“Afraid of him, or his wrath?” she asked carefully.

Draco shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I know my father loves me very much. I just never wanted to disappoint him; it’s always made me hold my tongue. But that’s all changed now; ever since I started seeing you,” he said, looking up at her. 

Hermione looked at him in surprise.

“It’s as if you bring out a different side of me,” Draco continued. “One that’s not afraid to tell my father what’s on my mind or to stand up for what I want, what I believe in. And, until last night, I didn’t know how angry I’ve been with him. I’ve been holding onto all of that for a really long time and I suppose it all just came out at once,” he explained.

Hermione put her hand on his thigh. “It’s not good to hold in things like that,” she said.

Draco nodded. “You’re right, it’s not. I must have looked like a whiny little prat, while he stood there, calm as ever. He never once raised his voice during the entire conversation. You probably think I’m a temperamental prick, compared to him.” 

Hermione smiled, appreciating his sincerity. “Draco, I love your passion and the way you show emotion. I love you and your father both for entirely different reasons.”

Draco froze and his eyes went wide. “What?”

Hermione blushed and looked away; appalled she had uttered the “L” word. She hadn’t even thought about it, it had just rolled off her tongue easily in her effort to try and reassure Draco that she valued him just as much as Lucius. 

“I… ah…” she stammered.

Draco was swallowing, his chest rising and falling noticeably as he as he stared back at her. “I love you, too,” he said softly. 

They stared at each for several moments, inching closer and closer until they were kissing with more passion and care than ever before. 

When the kiss broke, Hermione couldn’t hide her smile. Draco was studying her face closely, his own was guarded and slightly apprehensive, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. 

She knew he felt vulnerable, they were in strange new waters and so she decided it would be a good time to focus on the task at hand. 

“Well, shall we go see about your father?” she asked.

Draco nodded slowly. “Yes.”

~~~~~~~~~

When Hermione and Draco stepped out of the Floo, Draco immediately felt his father’s gaze. He decided, right away, it would be better to clear the air so they could present a united front when the Aurors arrived.

“Father,” Draco greeted quietly.

“Draco,” Lucius returned. 

They stared at each other for only a moment before Draco went to Lucius and hugged him tightly. Lucius seemed surprised, but after recovering from the shock of the gesture, he closed his arms around Draco to return the show of affection.

“I apologise for my display last night,” Draco said.

Lucius patted his son on the back. “No need.”

“No, Father, there is a time and place to discuss such matters, and we do need to have that discussion, but what you need right now is my support, and you shall have it, unconditionally,” he stated.

Lucius smiled back at Draco, obviously touched. “Thank you, Draco that means everything to me.”

Hermione smiled between the two of them. “Now, that you two have made up we have work to do. Lucius, are you ready to hear the plan?”

Lucius raised one eyebrow. “You’ve actually managed to cook up a realistic plan?”

“Of course, I told you I would,” Hermione said confidently.

Lucius glanced at Draco and then nodded. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

Lucius listened to Hermione's plan with a great deal of scepticism and reservation. He argued several points, to which she had an explanation, and by the end he was almost ready to give in. 

“It’s better than you calling off the events all together, and this way your guests stay protected,” she concluded.

Lucius reflected on her words a few minutes. “But it does feel a bit like a betrayal. I won’t be able to inform them of what I’m doing; they won’t know.”

“Yes, but Lucius, it can’t be used against them. That’s your main concern, isn’t it?” Hermione tried to reason.

“Yes, I suppose,” he said, looking from Draco to Hermione. He remained silent for several moments as he considered her argument. “All right, I suppose there’s no other way.”

Hermione smiled, throwing her arms around Lucius in a firm embrace. “It’ll work, I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Lucius smiled, holding Hermione in his arms, as he looked up at his Draco, who watched their embrace with serious regard.

~~~~~~~~~

When the Aurors arrived at six, Lucius, Hermione, and Draco were all seated together. Tizzy showed them in, and the surprise and puzzlement at Hermione’s presence was clear on both of their faces.

“Hermione Granger?” Fry said, holding out his hand as Hermione rose. “It’s so good to meet you. I’ve been an admirer of yours for a very long time,” he said, earning a pointed icy glare from Draco.

Fry quickly dropped her hand, clearing his throat and looking to his partner.

Mills’ brow was wrinkled as he stared between Draco and Hermione. “So, you two really are an item, then?” 

“Pardon, but it was my understanding that you were here to speak with me,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, well, we were expecting to speak to you in private,” Mills defended.

“Whatever questions you have, you can ask them in front of my son,” Lucius stated.

“And his girlfriend?” Mills asked in disbelief.

“Yes?” Lucius replied, nonchalantly.

“She knows then? About your… parties?” Fry asked, glancing at Hermione curiously.

“Yes, I’ve even attended one,” Hermione said unabashedly, staring at both Aurors boldly.

Fry raised his eyebrows, while Mills appeared disappointed and disgusted with Hermione. 

“I see. Well, all right then, I suppose we’ll get right to it then. Mr Malfoy have you’ve changed your mind about providing us with a guest list?” Fry asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Lucius said firmly.

Mills sighed, shaking his head at his partner. “See, told you…”

“But what I can give you,” Lucius continued, staring directly at Fry and ignoring Mills.

“…is access to my next party.” 

“What?” Fry exclaimed. 

“That’s what you’re offering?” Mills asked with a dubious stare.

“Yes, that’s the only way I can help you right now, otherwise, you’ll have to get a warrant from the Wizengamot. However, I should remind you that the evidence you have right now is circumstantial. Christina never made any apologies about her involvement in the lifestyle, and she was a regular guest at many lifestyle events, including my own.” 

“Lifestyle events? You mean kinky parties,” Mills sneered.

“And social clubs,” Lucius said casually as if he were talking about the weather. “I’m sure if you check the registry of any well-known lifestyle event, you’ll find her name there. So, at best, your investigation into my affairs will appear to be a stretch; and at worst, biased and unfounded. “

Mills ground his teeth, staring daggers at Lucius.

Lucius smiled. “Now, Mr Fry, would you like to hear my terms?”

“Yes, Mr Malfoy; please, go on,” Fry said anxiously, ignoring his partner’s glare.

Lucius clasped his hands. “I was thinking, perhaps, this murderer has attended a previous function I’ve hosted in the past. If he hasn’t, he probably was present at other functions my guests have attended. Either way, both possibilities deeply concern me. I do not want another murder to occur.”

“We still haven’t ruled you out as a suspect, yet,” Mills quipped snidely.

“Go on, Mr Malfoy, tell us your terms,” Fry said quickly, encouraging Lucius to continue.

“No guest list, no interviews,” Lucius said firmly. 

Mills shook his head. “No bloody way! It sounds like you’re protecting the murderer instead of trying to help us with this investigation! Perhaps, we should ask more questions about your whereabouts yesterday evening, Mr Malfoy,” he said.

Lucius gave Mills an icy glare and addressed his partner instead. “If you really want an insider’s view and a better chance to actually catch the murderer, this is the best way.” 

“How do you figure?” Fry asked.

“If you interview each of my guests or summon them for an investigation, it will push the killer further underground. Perhaps, he will disappear completely. I’m offering a rare opportunity to glimpse the scene without alarming anyone. If you choose the right Auror, you can get contacts for other parties and events.”

Hermione jumped right in. “Yes, and even if Lucius gave you his guest list, you will only get the people who are honest enough to give their real names. Many of his guests may be using aliases or may have only attended once or twice. If people know Aurors are asking questions, they’ll be less likely to use information that can be easily traced in the future.”

Mills sighed reluctantly, staring at his partner, who glanced back at him and then back at Lucius. “Very well, exactly what do you have in mind?”

Lucius gave Fry a small cautious smile. “Does the Auror Department have an attractive, female Auror who can work undercover at my next party?”


	11. Showtime

Hermione waited calmly for the Aurors’ reaction to their plan.

“We’ll have to look into that,” Mills answered slowly, eyeing Lucius with scepticism. 

“What exactly would this undercover Auror do at the party?” Fry asked.

“She’d be a guest, of course,” Hermione answered matter-of-factly, trying not to show frustration at their thickness. “Scoping out the scene, so to speak; meeting people who have valuable contacts.” 

“And if she doesn’t have a stick up her arse, she could get quite far,” Draco said smartly. 

“Would she have to participate in any… activities?” Mills asked with a grimace of disgust.

Lucius smiled in amusement at his evident disdain. “I’d imagine the harder she works, the more she’ll reap.”

“What do you think? Andrea?” Fry asked his partner.

“Nah, she’s too straight laced, she’d probably freak out,” Mills replied.

“Hmm, Samantha?” Fry offered.

Mills considered it for a moment. “Perhaps, but she’s not exactly… attractive. I mean, she’s a nice woman. Anyway, why does it really matter how attractive she is?” he asked, turning to Lucius suddenly. “I didn’t think freaks cared about stuff like that.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “As a matter of fact, the people I consort with are _not_ that shallow, but I was under the impression you are trying to catch a killer. Christina was very attractive, so I assumed that the killer is probably very particular about outward appearance.” 

Fry nodded. “Good point. That leaves…”

“Cho,” they both said together. 

Hermione smiled. “Cho? You mean Cho Chang? That’s an excellent choice!”

“Yes, she’s certainly attractive,” Mills said with a dirty smirk before narrowing his eyes at Hermione. “But I’m sure you’ve already spoken to her about your little plan, haven’t you?”

Hermione smiled innocently. “What? Oh… well, I may have mentioned it. But it was all hypothetical. This is your case after all,” she said with sugary sweetness.

Fry beamed at her, while Mills gave her a suspicious look. 

“Right,” he said.

“I think it’s a fine plan,” Fry said, still staring admiringly at Hermione until Draco cleared his throat. He dropped his gaze at once. 

“Well, we’ll have to clear this with the Head, but…”

“It looks like it’s a go!” Fry said quickly. “Of course, if Cho does work the event, she’ll have surveillance on her.”

“That’s fine, as long as it can’t be used against innocent guests,” Lucius emphasised.

“What would be the point of that?” Mills countered. 

“This is an opportunity to gather information for your investigation, not a hunt for incriminating evidence that can be used against my guests. I’m very aware of your department’s stance on our lifestyle, ” Lucius said with clear resentment. 

Mills opened his mouth, but Fry quickly cut him off before he began. “Yes, of course, we understand, Mr Malfoy, and we thank you for allowing us access.”

“Your word, gentlemen,” Lucius insisted, watching Mills closely.

The dark-haired man appeared hesitant, but his partner’s eyes were insistent. Finally, he nodded. “All right.” 

Lucius gave them men a slight nod and glanced to Hermione, who smiled up at him. But Draco did not seem as pleased. 

“Well, we’ll be in touch,” Fry said, starting to turn away. 

Draco put up his hand to stop them. “Wait a minute.”

Everyone turned to Draco, listening. 

“Let’s just say there _is_ a killer on the loose and he attends this party… I’m not sure I’m comfortable with a known sadistic killer running around freely among my loved ones. It’s not safe, especially for submissives,” he said, glancing to Hermione.

Hermione clicked her teeth. “Draco, I believe Cho is very capable of handling an assailant; she’s been trained.” 

“I wasn’t talking about Cho, Hermione,” Draco said gravely.

“I am also capable of handling an assailant,” she said confidently.

“I bet you are,” Fry said, with a supportive smile. 

Draco rolled his eyes at Fry while Lucius made a face. “I would hope it doesn’t come to anything as drastic as that. In fact, I must insist that the Aurors attending my party will ensure that none of my guests will be harmed.”

“We’ll do our best, Mr Malfoy,” Fry said quickly.

“See to it that you do better than that,” Lucius said, holding out his hand to shake Fry’s hand. Hermione took note that his partner watched on in uneasiness as Stephen took Lucius’ hand in agreement.

~~~*~~~

Once the Aurors left, Hermione, Lucius and Draco had dinner and began discussing the details for the next party.

Hermione was relieved that at least the first part of her plan was working; the rest was largely up to luck. Draco again expressed discomfort with opening the Manor to “every deviant in Great Britain” and their plan to uncover the killer. Hermione admired his commitment to help them in spite of that. 

Lucius decided that while he would remain Dungeon Master, Draco would serve as Dungeon Commander and Hermione would be Dungeon Mistress. 

For her part, Hermione was pleased that Lucius had reluctantly allowed her some control over planning the next party, and over the next week, she took to the task very seriously. She contacted Fry, Cho, and even Mills about putting into place a number of checks to maximise the information they could get from guests. 

Lucius made Hermione swear absolute privacy and her bum that she would not reveal his guest list to anyone. He then gave her the names of everyone who had ever attended one of his parties, as well as any registered guests they may have brought with them.

In addition to special screening wards that recorded the magical imprint of all guests arriving by Apparition, unlike the previous party, all guests would be required to sign in after presenting their invitation. Whether they used an alias or not was of no consequence: it was the signature and the aliases that were most valuable. The quill was charmed to record each writer’s fingerprint. 

Hermione also came up with the idea of having an informational card to survey guests about their kink of choice. An explanation would be given that it would better accommodate guests’ tastes at future events.

Lucius had suggested that the three of them be featured as the main play event for the evening. Hermione was hesitant at first, but Draco reminded her that she and he had been a very popular draw at the last event. She could tell that Draco was very eager to show her off in front of a crowd, which made her slightly nervous. 

Lucius reminded her, with a sly smile, that her identity would be concealed and the payoff would be rewarding. That was incentive enough, and she agreed. But when Lucius announced that he wanted to try a co-topping demonstration on proper whipping technique, Hermione blanched and became hesitant again.

Lucius tried to ease her nerves by suggesting that she and Draco come over each night to prepare. From Sunday through Thursday, Lucius instructed Draco on different ways to punish and please Hermione with a whip. Though at times it proved to be uncomfortable for Hermione, overall, she found the experience rather exhilarating. She especially enjoyed watching Draco grow more confident and skilled with the whip as the week went on. By the end of it, she was just as excited about the demonstration as Lucius and Draco. 

At work, in addition to her usual assignments, Hermione began to look into wizarding laws and statutes for sexual deviancy. She was saddened to see that Wizarding Britain had a long history of biased laws, raids, and sentences for those who practiced BDSM. Mentally, she filed that away as a potential private cause she could take up after securing her promotion.

In the meantime, she had spoken to Cho several times in preparation for the party. She wanted to make sure her friend wouldn’t be too shocked or terribly disturbed by her assignment. However, the more she spoke to Cho about the event, the more uneasy Hermione became, as her friend seemed less than forthcoming about who she would be bringing with her.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just give me your partner’s name,” Hermione said for the fifth time. This time, though, she was determined to press for more than Cho’s flaky ‘we’ll talk about it later’ response.

“I told you, Hermione, it’s top secret. Anyway, can we talk about this later? I want to go over the ward screens once more.”

“No, later is now. The party is in two days, and I still don’t know who you’re bringing!”

“We wouldn’t be anywhere if I went around divulging that information.” 

“I don’t understand; I’ll be meeting him anyway!” Hermione pointed out. 

“Yes, but, I just think it’s best if you didn’t worry about that. The Auror Department—”

“Can’t be trusted, Cho. No offence, but if it were up to the Auror Department, Lucius and Draco would probably be in jail right now.”

Cho huffed. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

Hermione pursed her lips, glaring in frustration at her friend.

Cho sighed. “Look, all you need to know is that I was allowed to choose my partner. Now, I need to know, do you trust me?”

“Cho, it’s not that I don’t trust you—I don’t trust the Department.”

“Hermione, you’ll be happy with my partner, I promise. But I’m afraid if I give too much information now, it may compromise the whole operation. He’s deep undercover right now, so deep that most people in the Department don’t even know he’s an Auror.”

Hermione leaned forward. “Really?” 

Cho nodded with a small smile. “Yes, he’s really good at what he does. Trust me. He’s broken many cases, but that’s mostly because no one knows he’s working.”

“Well… all right,” Hermione said slowly. 

“You’re absolutely certain we’re going to be wearing masks, yes?” Cho asked again.

“Yes,” Hermione said slowly. “I told you, Lucius is dead set on it.” 

Cho smiled. “Good.”

“Can you at least give me a name or something? Lucius won’t be comfortable if I tell him some random Auror will be attending,” Hermione pressed.

Cho smirked. “All right, you can call him Stag.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Stag? What kind name is that?”

Cho shrugged. “Who knows, perhaps he’s hung like a—”

“Cho!”

“Well, you asked,” Cho said. “It’s just a hunch.” 

Hermione looked at her with disbelieving eyes before breaking out into laughter.

~~~*~~~

On Saturday, Hermione could hardly contain her excitement. Lucius and Draco had insisted on buying her a new corset for the party, an expensive black silk and lace number with diamonds lining the bust and trailing down her back.

She wore a silk, emerald green skirt with black lace chiffon at the bottom, and one string of diamonds encircling her waist. Before the party, Draco and Lucius presented her with a stunning and very expensive collar with a platinum loop hook, bearing the Malfoy’s infamous “M” laden in diamonds on her throat.

The party was set just the way Hermione had planned. Instead of darkened rooms with subdued coloured lightening, this time, Hermione coaxed Lucius into brighter lights with only a few select playrooms darkened and blocked off for more intimate encounters. 

Hermione had also convinced Lucius to make the party more festive and to serve alcohol with a two-drink maximum for each guest in order to loosen inhibition and encourage people to talk more. 

Hermione’s hypothesis was correct: With all of the media attention and scrutiny on BDSM related clubs and participants, Lucius’ party actually attracted more guests than usual because of its discreet nature and sworn confidentiality. She was pleased to see that they managed to pull in almost everyone who had RSVPed. 

While most of the rooms were brighter, they were no less decadent and lascivious. The classic artwork of the Manor had been replaced by moving photographs showing kinky play. Cages, auction blocks, and paddling tables were situated in almost every room. Statues posed in various positions of submission and fornication were scattered throughout the Manor, with a large ice sculpture of a submissive male bowing at the feet of a female dominant in the centre of the drawing room. 

Extreme kinks like blood play, knife play, fire play, and breath play were near the front, each easily accessible to all party goers. Hermione wanted to make sure that Cho and her partner could keep an eye on who came in and out of those areas, as well as mingle freely without raising suspicion. The rest of the rooms were open for regular play with corners set aside for more intimate play. 

Many people were dispersed throughout, engaging in conversation and watching others. When the party began, Hermione felt more comfortable than she thought she would and fell into her role well, going from room to room to observe and make acquaintances. She introduced herself as the Mistress of the event, Lady H. Lucius and Draco tried to mingle as well, but they always managed to wander back to her side protectively, making it known she was their submissive.

They walked around together for almost an hour, greeting guests and making small talk, keeping their eyes on the door, when finally, Hermione saw Cho.

Both Draco and Lucius appeared temporarily stunned by the entrance of the tall, shapely woman who had entered the drawing room. Her long, straight black hair was swept behind her, highlighting high cheekbones, tanned complexion, and a magnificent display of cleavage. She wore five inch black stiletto thigh-high boots, a daringly cut soft black leather corset, and a small black whip in the garter on her right thigh just above the edge of her boot.

Draco whistled low. “Wow. The Department is really recruiting better talent these days,” he said, smirking at Cho flirtatiously.

Hermione turned with her mouth open, which prompted Draco to give her a playful smile and pull her closer to him. 

“Pig,” she said with a small smile.

Draco shrugged. “It was a compliment.”

“Thank you,” Cho said with strange smile. There was an awkward moment of silence until Lucius offered his hand. 

“You must be… Raven,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Yes, Mr Malfoy, pleased to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, winking at Hermione.

“Oh?” Lucius asked, his raised barely concealed eyebrow.

Cho smiled. “Good things, of course.” 

“Better be,” he said, giving a brief glance to Hermione, who was trying to keep a straight face. 

“And, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s your, er... guest?” he asked, leaning to one side to peer behind her.

It was then that Hermione noticed that Cho held a leash in her left hand. It was not immediately clear who the leash was connected to until Hermione’s eyes followed the long chain trailing behind her friend. It was attached to a well-built, shirtless young man talking to an older female dominatrix in the corner. 

The man was wearing black leather pants and a spiked dog collar, with a silver mask to match the spokes. Cho yanked the leash in her hand and the man’s head snapped forward and he promptly followed the pull of his leash. 

When he finally came to stand at his ‘owner’s’ side, the man let out an audible gasp. Hermione saw his eyes flicker back and forth between her, Draco, and Lucius, who were flanking her. 

As she studied his face, Hermione tried her hardest not to return the gasp. 

It was Harry Potter. The mask he was wearing did an admirable job of attempting to conceal his identity, but Hermione could tell that he was also wearing a well-placed glamour. He had changed his eye colour to an average brown and lengthened his hair. Green eyes or not, however, Hermione would recognise her best friend anywhere. 

“Ah, I’d thought you’d come as a submissive, Chang, but I actually think this suits you better,” Draco said, smirking at Cho’s submissive male partner.

Lucius glanced between Cho and her partner. “There’s a phrase: it’s easier to attract flies with honey. I believe a female _submissive_ would be more likely to draw the attention of a dominant… particularly a sadist who enjoy asphyxiation.”

“Oh, I agree, Mr Malfoy. I’m flexible,” Cho said. “I can be a submissive as well, but I thought for this event, I’d come playing a role that made me most comfortable.” She gave her submissive a firm swat on the bum.

Harry jumped and cleared his throat. “Oh! Ah… I think I’ll get us some drinks!” he said abruptly.

Cho turned to Harry and withdrew a thin rod from her belt. “Excuse me?” she asked with a stern edge to her voice that made Hermione stare at her in stunned amazement. Was this the same sweet, soft-spoken Cho she had just had tea with a day ago?

“I, er, Mistress, may I go fetch something to drink… for both of us?” Harry corrected.

Cho ran her hands down Harry’s arm soothingly and then reached up to unhook the leash attached to his collar.

“Good boy, yes, run along, and make it quick,” she said.

Hermione tried to close her mouth as she watched Harry nod and quickly make his way through the guests to find them both drinks.

“That’s an undercover Auror as well?” Draco asked in a surprised hushed whisper.

Cho nodded. “Yes, that’s my partner, Stag.”

Lucius chuckled. “Well, perhaps you and Stag wouldn’t mind joining us later for a bit of play, after our demonstration, of course.” 

Hermione gaped at Lucius, appalled. If he only knew who that was! She was sure she didn’t want to be in the same room playing with Harry and Cho. But to her shock, Cho nodded with a demure smile. 

Hermione was about to protest, but then remembered that Lucius didn’t know about Harry. 

“Excuse me, Raven, may I have a word?” she asked insistently.

Cho’s eyebrow rose above her mask. “Ah, sure.”

Hermione grabbed her friend’s hand quickly, pulling her back to the loo where she promptly closed and locked the door. 

She turned around, glaring at Cho

“Hermione, what is it?” Cho whispered in concern.

“Cho, what is Harry doing here? And why didn’t you tell me you were bringing him?”

Cho pursed her lips. “Because I knew you’d react exactly like this!”

Hermione threw up her hands. “I don’t understand, Harry told me he quit the Auror department and was coaching Little League Quidditch!” 

“Well, that’s not exactly a lie. He did publicly quit the department, and he does coach little league. That’s all a part of his cover. No one knows he’s still an Auror!”

Hermione groaned. “Did you have to pick _him_ to partner with on this?”

Cho smirked. “Let me point out the advantages of having Harry here: first, he’s not going to leak anything that would hurt you or people you care about because he cares about you. Second, he’s not known to be affiliated with the Department. Third, he’s adventurous and a bit kinky, and definitely has a thing for strong, demanding women. He fits perfectly.”

“Other than the fact that he’s one of my best mates!”

“Hermione, are you listening to me? That’s a good thing! Besides, he and I had a long talk about it. He’s promised to be open-minded and non-judgmental.”

Hermione fell back against the wall, staring at Cho. “I can’t believe you.”

Cho gave her a small smile. “Oh, be honest, this is the best way to break your relationship with the Malfoys to him, and if anyone can weed out a killer, it’s Harry.”

Hermione straightened, silently contemplating her friend.

“And what does Ginny have to say about Harry’s undercover work?”

Cho pulled back. “What? I don’t know! I don’t talk to her!” 

Folding her arms over his chest, Hermione gave her friend a quick once over. “Cho, you told me that you didn’t see much of Harry these days.” 

“I don’t! Anyway, that’s beside the point. I thought this was important enough...”

“Cho…”

“…that he should be contacted, and he happily agreed!” Cho continued stubbornly. 

“Cho!”

“What, Hermione?” Cho asked with irritation.

“What’s really going on between you two? I saw the way you two were interacting,” Hermione asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing! We’re just here on an assignment, the assignment you thought up! Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work. This thing ends at three in the morning, and I have lots of mingling to do!” Cho insisted, turning away from Hermione to exit.

ut

As Hermione watched her leave, she had the strangest feeling that she wasn’t the only one who had been keeping secrets about her love life lately. 

When she rejoined Draco and Lucius, they both were watching her curiously. 

“What was that all about?” Draco asked in concern, stroking Hermione’s cheek affectionately.

“Nothing,” Hermione muttered.

“Is everything all right?” Lucius asked, stroking Hermione’s hair like a pet.

She tried not to squirm between the two of them caressing her, but it was hard. “Yes… I’m fine.”

“Now, now, you’ve forgotten where you are… whose you are,” Lucius said, leaning in against her ear, his voice low and full of delicious threat.

“Yes, Master?” she said breathlessly, feeling slightly lightheaded with his breath so hot on her neck.

“Perfect,” Lucius smiled.

Draco pulled her arm, drawing her closer to him and away from Lucius. “Are you ready?”

Hermione glanced around Draco to the crowded room. There were many more people here than at the last event. 

“I think so,” she said softly.

“You’ll do fine, you’re still the most alluring woman here. I wish you could see your bum when it’s freshly marked; it’s lovely shade of rose.” He cupped her chin with his hand, bringing her lips to his. 

Hermione nearly melted; his kiss was so tender, full of care, while his hand moved from her arm to her waist in a tight embrace. When he began to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing further into her mouth, she moaned wantonly, her breast suddenly feeling too restrained by the corset. Damn everyone else! 

“You two really should get a room,” Lucius murmured from behind her.

Draco smiled against her lips, swatting her bum playfully. “We won’t need one. We’ll save it for the demonstration.”

Hermione gulped.

“Let’s give them a good show, shall we?” Draco said a little too gleefully for her liking as he grabbed her arm and began pulling her toward the ballroom. Lucius followed behind.

~~~*~~~

As they continued walking down the long corridor towards the Manor’s main ballroom, Hermione could hear the crowd behind them growing with increasing whispering, giggling, and murmuring. Why was she so bloody nervous all of a sudden? These were her lovers, and she was perfectly concealed.

She shivered when Lucius run his fingertips along her back as Draco continued to usher her back. When they reached the ballroom, Hermione’s eyes glanced around, taking in the huge crystal chandelier with magical tiny bouncing spheres of red and white light, bathing the room in a sea of light red colour. Her eyes found the dreaded demonstration stage. It was a wooden stage, not unlike a slave-auctioning block, only much larger, and it sat centred, at the front of the room. 

“Come on, love, don’t get cold feet on me now,” Draco whispered. Her feet felt frozen to the floor as she stared at her destination.

One foot right in front of the other was all she could think of, and Draco’s firm hand around her arm as she climbed the short stack of steps leading up to the centre of the stage. There was a great flat steel cross on stage turned sideways to form a huge X. They hadn’t practiced with one of those; this was new. She stared up at it, still not quite believing that she was about to be strapped to it. 

When she turned around, practically all the guests from the party were there; it was a packed house. She cursed for doing her job as Dungeon Mistress so well.

They were all taking their chairs, talking amongst each other, staring at her, Draco, and Lucius. Some submissives did not take a seat in the chairs, opting instead to sit on their dominants’ laps or at their feet. Hermione’s nerves felt frayed. She had forgotten what it was like to be the centre of attention at one of these things. Her mouth went dry as she stared wide-eyed at them, still amazed she was about to do this in front of everyone. Lucius stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the crowd.

“Now, Hermione, I want you to forget about everyone here. The only people who matter are next to you.”

“I’ll try,” she said, still very aware of the hustle and bustle down below as people continued to take their seats.

“I have a surprise for you,” Draco whispered, making her skin break out into fresh goose bumps.

She looked up at him anxiously.

“Relax, Hermione, you’ll like this. See this cross?” 

She nodded, staring up at it in apprehension.

“Well, this demonstration won’t work if you’re looking at the crowd… you have to face the cross. The only faces you have to see are ours.” 

A smile broke on Hermione’s face as she breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, in that case, string me up,” she said with a cheeky smile. 

Lucius chuckled softly behind her. He briefly gripped her shoulders and then his hands slid down her arms. As he began to unlace her corset, Hermione looked to Draco for encouragement. 

Draco’s eyes were filled with admiration and warmth. “This is going to be fun. Don’t try to deny that you like being on display,” he teased.

“I don’t!” she insisted with a small smile.

She froze when Lucius began to speak. 

“Welcome, everyone, I trust you are enjoying tonight’s events?” he asked. There were many claps and whistles of affirmation. 

“Good,” Lucius drawled. “Tonight, we will be doing a co-topping demonstration featuring our lovely submissive and Dungeon Mistress, Lady H., and our Dungeon Commander, Lord…”

Hermione heard Lucius pause and sniff indignantly. “Er, Lord Draconis,” he finished with some stiffness.

Hermione almost laughed. Lord Draconis. What a pretentious title. “You should have gone with Commander Ferret instead,” she whispered, smiling up at Draco.

“You’ll pay for that one, Granger.”

“Ooooh, I’m scared,” she whispered cheekily.

Draco smirked darkly, drawing closer to her, his boots clicking on the stage as he did. “Hold out your arms, love,” he instructed in a deceptively soft tone. 

Hermione swallowed as she extended her arms out to either side. Lucius continued to speak about the importance of safe, sane, consensual practice and the pitfalls of co-topping, while Draco fitted each of Hermione’s arms into the leather cuffs dangling from each side of the cross. 

“Until you are comfortable and have a long term, established relationship,” Lucius continued, “whenever you are partnering with another dominant, there should be a discussion about who will take the lead, who will be the harsher of the two, and who will be the comforter. Sometimes, those roles can be split. Tonight, our Dungeon Commander will take the lead with the whip, and I will play off of his lead.” Lucius turned toward Hermione and nodded to Draco, who gave a quick nod of his own.

“Ready, my dear?” Lucius asked from behind her, causing her to shiver as his hand slid down to the small of her back. 

Before Hermione could answer, she saw Draco move forward, and a sudden flash of heat flared across her arse, causing her to cry out. She jumped as another strike came from the opposite side. She heard Lucius say something to the crowd, but she couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her heart.

Draco delivered another stripe, and then, to her surprise, she gasped and then heard a moan. 

Was that her moaning?

Draco delivered a series of medium stripes to her arse and thighs, and to her embarrassment, Hermione felt her arousal sliding down her thigh.

“Told you you’d like it,” Draco murmured, reaching down and stroking her as Lucius struck her arse from the opposite direction. 

He paused once more to speak while Draco took over, and Hermione realised she was no longer in the room. She was above it. Floating. 

Her eyes rolled back as Draco continued and Lucius joined, they were alternating now, pausing every few minutes to caress freshly marked flesh. When Draco planted a kiss on her back, she vaguely heard a smattering of ‘awws’ and sighs in the room, but the sensation of his lips on her sensitive hot flesh made her twitch. Everything on her body felt sensitive right now, so when Lucius took one of her nipples between his fingers and twisted it softly, she cried out, and her eyes flew open. 

He was staring down at her, studying her. “Are you all right?” 

She could only nod, unable to speak as Lucius’ hand found her clit, while Draco continued to whip her. 

“You’re such a good girl. I’m very proud of you, Hermione,” Lucius whispered, giving her a kiss on the cheek before pressing his mouth to her ear to whisper comforting words as Draco’s whipping continued. 

Soon there was only sensation, and Hermione could only feel. She felt Lucius’ lips on her skin, the sting and care in each of Draco’s lashes, Lucius’ fingers slowing slipping in and out of her, making her hips twist involuntarily. 

As her orgasm began to build, Hermione’s body tensed in preparation. Draco’s lashes seem to strike in time with the plunge of Lucius’ fingers, which were curled inside of her, demanding her release. So when Lucius’ growled for her to come for him, she couldn’t stop herself from falling apart against the bars of the cross that her body was strapped to, trembling from the force of her climax. 

When she opened her eyes, both Lucius and Draco were looking at her in concern, and the room was dead silent. 

She nodded to indicate she was all right, despite her dazed state.

Draco still looked concern. “I didn’t go too far, did I?”

“No, you did great,” she replied with a goofy smile. 

Draco sighed in relief, and then his face grew stern once more. “Now, let that be a lesson to you, young lady; no more cheek.” 

Hermione sniggered while Lucius smoothed her hair and then ran his hands over her sore back and arse. “You were absolutely riveting to watch, love.”

He leaned in and gave her a full kiss on the mouth before turning back to face the audience.

“And that’s our demonstration, ladies and gentlemen,” Hermione heard him say. 

There was a thunderous applause. Hermione’s eyes went wide, and she looked to her side to see Draco looking out at the crowd proudly and then at her with an amused smile. She could watch him smile all day. When he moved in to give her one last kiss before releasing her wrists from the cross, she knew that with Draco and Lucius at her side, she could do just about anything, no matter how mental it seemed.

~~~*~~~

After the demonstration, several dominants came up to talk to Lucius and Draco, asking questions and glancing curiously at Hermione. Hermione entertained questions and introductions from their submissives.

She was about to answer a question when someone latched onto her arm with a grip so strong it made her gasp.

Draco and Lucius stopped their conversation and immediately came to her side, ready to confront the man holding her. Hermione looked to her right to see who it was… it was Harry.

“I beg your pardon, Stag, but if you do not remove your hand, it will be hexed off for you,” Draco threatened, his wand drawn.

Hermione stared at Harry in alarm and then up at Draco and Lucius who both looked absolutely deadly with their steely grey glares.

“Lucius, Draco, it’s all right. I promised Stag that we’d speak alone after the demonstration,” she tried to reassure. 

“What?” Draco asked sceptically.

“He wanted some counsel as a submissive,” she said quietly, giving them both meaningful looks, hoping they would take it for Auror-related business. 

Draco’s eyes darted to Harry and then he gave Hermione a curt nod, while Lucius’ glare softened just a tad. 

“All right, but if you’re not back here soon, we’ll come looking for you, and neither of you want that,” Lucius warned.

Hermione physically removed Harry’s fingers from her arm and walked ahead of him, leading him out of the ballroom. Once they were out the door, Harry’s hand found its way back to her arm, gripping it tightly as if he were dragging an unruly child to the corner to scold.

Not wanting to make a scene or alarm guests, Hermione allowed Harry to walk her back to the far corridor where the rooms had been set aside for private play. He took her to the very end of the hallway near the very last room. Hermione glanced around, noting there was no one there, and then jerked her arm from out of his grip, putting as much space between them as possible.

“Harry! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“Me? Hermione, what in Godric’s name is going on? I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. Did I just watch you have an orgasm on stage?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Harry, I thought Cho told you I would be here… She said that you were prepped.”

Harry appeared exasperated. “Well, she didn’t tell me I would see that! Yes, I knew you would be here, but that’s it. She said you’d tell me everything when you felt comfortable.”

Hermione sighed. “I see.”

“Hermione, just how long have you been coming to these things?”

Hermione’s previous anxiety returned as she stared at her best friend. She took a deep breath. “Harry… this is my second party, but you should know that… well…”

“Well, what? That you let Draco and Lucius Malfoy whip you in front of a room of people? I saw that much myself!”

“Harry,” Hermione said, stepping closer, clasping her hands in front of nervously. 

The worry lines in Harry’s brow increased tenfold as he stared down at her with a frown. “What, Hermione? Are the rumours really true? Are you seeing Draco, now?”

“I’m seeing both of them!”

Harry continued to stare at Hermione, as if waiting for her to reveal a prank. When she held her silence, his eyes searched hers in disbelief. “You’re having a laugh, right? Tell me you’re just joking…”

“No, I’m not.”

“I don’t believe this!”

“Well, you should… because it’s the truth.”

“You can’t! You can’t go out with both of them! Going out with Draco is bad enough!”

Hermione perched both hands on her hips. “I can and I will! And you can’t stop me!”

“Hermione, this isn’t even a relationship! It’s … depravity! Two Malfoys? Father and son? Not to mention, getting your arse tanned in front of a room full of strangers… Have you gone mental?” Harry pushed his hands over his hair his eyes wide and disbelieving. 

“I’m happy, Harry! Very happy, as a matter of fact!”

“You just got divorced!” Harry reasoned.

“That’s right! And thank the gods for that!”

Harry shook his head. “This isn’t right. No… I know what this is… you’re just doing this to get back at Ron, aren’t you?”

“This isn’t about Ron, this is about me!”

“Hermione, this isn’t you!” 

“How do you know who I am anymore, Harry? When’s the last time you dropped in to check up on me, or even owled?” 

Harry’s eyes shifted, his determined scowl breaking. “Hermione, I know you well enough. You can’t be over Ron, not this quickly. You need time to get over him before you move on…”

Hermione gasped in incredulity. “Do I? And did you say the same to Ron after he went off and started seeing two bints within days of divorcing me?”

Harry dropped his hands and sighed. “I, well, no, but…”

“And why not? Because he’s a bloke, right? Because going out with two women makes him a stud! I bet you even gave him a pat on the back for it!”

“Hermione, that’s not fair!”

“You’re right, it’s not, Harry. It’s not fair the way I have to hide who I’m seeing, while Ron makes bachelor of the bloody year for shagging two women! It’s unfair, and you know it!” 

Harry sighed. “Fine, you’re right, all right? But Draco Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy? Hermione, you’re well known, respected, you can have anyone you want!”

“How dare you judge them! It’s obvious to everyone that they’ve changed since the war! Everyone has! Even Ron!”

Harry narrowed his eyes.

“That’s right, Harry. Ron’s changed! Have you taken a real good look at him, lately? Open your eyes, he’s become a total git! I suppose you’re too busy being loyal to him to see that, though, but what about being loyal to me, Harry? Do you know what he put me through? Why can’t you just be happy for me like you are for him?” 

Harry looked away, staring down the hall for a moment. “It’s not like I completely approve of what Ron’s doing, I just figured…”

“Figured what? That seeing two women is a part of being a professional athlete? Harry, he hurt me, and you not being around when he did hurt even more!”

Harry lifted his mask, guilt and shame written all over his face. “You and Ron have always dealt with problems differently. Sometimes Ron can be stubborn and foolish, but… well, this is so unlike you. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. I worry about you,” he added softly.

Hermione stared back at her best friend, her eyes watering. She drew closer. “There’s no need to worry about me, Harry. I’m fine, better than fine…better than I have been for years.”

A small smile broke on Harry’s face as he leaned in to give her a firm hug. Hermione hugged him back, squeezing him tightly. She’d missed him so much. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” he whispered. “I’m sorry about you and Ron… I’m just sorry.”

“Apology accepted…” she whispered, feeling relief and gratitude she had one of her closest friends back.

When she pulled away, Harry’s eyes were just as wet as hers. She laughed softly, reaching up to wipe his face. 

“Nice glamour, by the way,” she said. 

Harry scoffed. “Some disguise; you recognised me right away.” 

“I’d know you anywhere.”

Harry smiled. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, we do, about a year’s worth, I think.”

“Let’s do it soon,” Harry said. “What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Hmm, I think I’ll be right here… recovering,” she laughed. 

Harry grimaced. “Hermione, please, I’m still trying to wrap my head around you seeing Draco. I can’t even imagine… I don’t want to think about the rest,” he said shaking his head.

“All right then, how about dinner, my house, Monday night?” Hermione offered.

Harry nodded. “I’d like that.”

Hermione smiled brightly. “Great, then you can tell me all about your fabulous life as an undercover Auror, and catch me up on how things are going with Ginny… and Cho.”

Harry’s face flushed and his eyes dropped to the floor. “I know what you’re probably thinking…”

Hermione put her hand on his arm. “I’m not judging you, Harry. But I know you well enough to know that right now, you need to someone to talk to. So, let’s just make a night of it over wine and lasagna. What do you say?”

Harry nodded agreeably. She hugged him again, and then felt him go rigid. Pulling away, she looked to see what was the matter; Harry’s eyes were hardened and he looked ready for a fight. Hermione turned around quickly. Lucius and Draco were standing behind her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lucius asked with a deadly glare.

“Lucius, this is an old friend,” Hermione said anxiously.

“Old friend?” Draco repeated in incredulity. “I don’t recognise him! Who is he? And don’t tell us _Stag._ Enough with the aliases, reveal yourself!”

Harry sighed. “Draco, calm down.”

“How dare you speak to me as if you know me!” Draco snarled.

“Unfortunately, I do know you, Ferret,” Harry said, grimacing.

Draco’s eyes went wide, and he leaned forward, peering closely at Harry’s face. “Gods, Potter?”

Harry nodded.

Lucius stared at Harry curiously. “Incredible, I would have never guessed.”

A smirk began to grow on Draco’s face. “A submissive, eh? Interesting. You know, I’m not surprised, Potter.” 

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well, _Stag_ , was this evening worth your while?” Lucius asked.

“Actually, yes, we made lots of contacts. There are some interesting people here, a few from school, in fact.”

“Really?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

“Good, I’m glad it was productive for you,” Lucius said, still studying Harry’s face closely.

The soft tap of heels on marble directed everyone’s attention to the entrance of the corridor, and they all turned to watch Cho as she walked down the hallway. 

“Stag! There you are! Don’t wander away from me like that again,” she scolded.

“Ah… sorry?” Harry apologised awkwardly.

“Sorry? What was that?” Cho demanded.

“Cho, you can drop the act, they know it’s me,” Harry said in resignation.

Cho looked around at Lucius, Hermione, and Draco and then back at Harry. “So? You still haven’t addressed me properly, and we’re still undercover.”

Draco sniggered, prompting Cho to give him a look of warning. 

Draco’s face sobered. “Is that supposed to frighten me? I’m not submissive, Chang.”

“No, Draco, but you should be respectful of another dominant’s submissive. Play nice,” Lucius chided. 

Draco rolled his eyes, looking Harry over once more. 

“Sorry what, Harry?” Cho demanded.

“Sorry, Mistress,” Harry said quietly, blushing furiously.

Hermione stared at Cho, in shock at her friend’s audacity and at Harry’s acquiescence. 

“Good boy,” she said, smiling, ruffling her hand over his hair. 

“Very good, Ms. Chang,” Lucius drawled with a small smile, appraising Cho more closely. “I’m impressed. If you like, I could give you some lessons disciplining male submissives. I used to do a paddling workshop with a female dominatrix some years ago.”

Cho giggled. “Oh, I don’t know, Mr Malfoy… we were really just playing around. Right, Harry?”

Harry shifted, blushing again as he nodded.

“Oh? Pity. I do believe you are a natural,” Lucius said seductively. 

Hermione’s eyes shifted to Cho. Lucius was too damn charming; she knew Cho couldn’t resist.

“Hmm…” Cho said hesitantly, glancing at Hermione, who gave her an encouraging smile. 

“I suppose one lesson wouldn’t hurt. You wouldn’t mind would you, Harry?” Cho asked tentatively.

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “What? Er, I—”

“Come on, please?” she asked sweetly.

Harry looked around at Hermione, Lucius and Draco. “This is… insane!”

“But it is also very fun,” Lucius drawled, eyeing Harry with a dare on his face.

“Come on, Potter, live a little,” Draco poked. 

Hermione watched Harry in anticipation to see if he would take a risk. He took a visible gulp, staring at Cho. “Do you really want to do this?”

“Do you?” Cho asked in return.

Harry took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll give it a go. Just for you.”

Cho smiled widely, hugging Harry. “Thank you, Harry.”

Hopeful excitment and anxiety collide as Hermione watched their tight embrace. She was now convinced that something was going on between the two of them.

Lucius opened the door to the private playroom behind him, and the rest followed him inside.

“I knew you had it in you, Potter,” Draco said, patting Harry on the back. “Just make sure you don’t smart off at the mouth when she gets going. A woman with a whip in her hand can be dangerous.” 

“Thanks, Malfoy, I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Harry said, his annoyance with Draco’s amusement apparent.

Draco grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her back towards the door. 

"Where are we going?” she asked Draco.

“I want to play with you… alone. Let Father handle this.”

“Well, we’ll just leave you three to it,” Hermione said, smiling back at Lucius, Harry, and Cho.

“You’re leaving me?” Harry said, almost begging. 

“You’ll be fine, Harry. You’re in very capable hands, I assure you,” Hermione said, winking at Lucius and Cho. 

She gave Harry one last encouraging smile and a small wave, trying not to succumb to a fit of giggles as she closed the door behind her.


	12. Catching Up

When Hermione awoke the next morning, the room was still dark. Her eyes were covered with silk, and her hands were firmly bound together by soft rope tied to the corner of the bed. She squirmed and then hissed; her arse was sore, even against the silk sheets of Lucius’ bed. It took her a few moments to gather her senses before the memory of the night before came flooding back.

Draco had whisked her away to shag her silly in a private playroom down the hall from where they’d left Harry, Lucius, and Cho. Lucius had joined them an hour later, looking quite pleased with himself. Apparently, Harry had taken very well to Cho’s new lessons. 

Hermione wondered how exactly those two had been able to get any useful information by playing together alone in a private room. However, once Lucius had started teasing her breasts while Draco lapped at her centre, all of Hermione’s previous thoughts of Harry and Cho’s investigation had ceased. 

After reaching her third climax, somehow she had managed to rejoin the party. She, Lucius, and Draco had wandered about making small talk with their guests and watching various ‘scenes’. They’d found themselves thoroughly aroused from all of the play going on around them and had excused themselves once more, disappearing into Lucius’ bedroom. 

Apparently, Lucius had been in a teaching mood last night because he’d taught Draco bondage spells, each one more complicated than the last. Hermione’s hands had been bound and her legs left free while Lucius and Draco proceeded to take turns making her come for the fourth, fifth, and sixth time that night. 

While it had been obvious to Hermione they were trying to outdo each other, she’d been so deliriously out of her mind with ecstasy that she had let go of her former worries about them competing. She’d reasoned if such pleasure was the consequence of competition, then perhaps competition wasn’t so bad after all.

But now as Hermione lay fully awake and bound to the bed, her wrists hurt and there was an uncomfortable dull ache between her legs. She struggled against her binds, huffing and sighing in an effort to disturb her lovers. 

“Will you settle down?” Draco grunted. “Some of us are trying to sleep!” 

“Let me out of these things!” she demanded. “I have to use the loo!”

Finally, the silk covering her eyes was lifted. She squinted against the light hitting her eyes until her vision adjusted. Draco looked down at her in irritation. He quickly reached up to untie her without another word. Hermione immediately jumped out of the bed to sprint across the room towards the bathroom. 

When she returned, Lucius and Draco were both wide-awake and propped up against the headboard. 

Lucius patted a space in between them. “Come, we have to train you how to say good morning properly.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  
Lucius raised one eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“How can you think of even sex after last night?” she asked in amazement of the man’s insatiable sexual appetite.

Lucius chuckled. “Can’t keep up, dear?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and climbed in between them to settle. They both instantly snuggled up to her, Lucius kissing her neck, Draco nibbling on her ear.

“All right… all right, this is lovely, really, but—” she managed to say after controlling the urge to give into their attentions once more. “Did either of one of you speak to Harry or Cho about what leads they might have?” 

Lucius groaned, giving her an annoyed eye roll. “Must we discuss this now? Just the mention of Potter ruins a perfectly good erection.”

Hermione scoffed. “You think _I’m_ ruining things? Try a public investigation and tabloid reporters printing rubbish about you and your kinky parties. We went through all of this trouble to save your reputation. You need to take this more seriously!”

Lucius sighed. “Fine. Yes, I did speak to… _Stag,_ ” he said with a chuckle.

Draco sniggered at the mention of Harry’s alias, prompting Hermione to give them both a disapproving glare. 

“He said that there was a mix of reasonably normal people and shady characters hanging about the extreme kink area, but when I pressed about what distinguished normal from unsavoury, he couldn’t really produce a satisfactory answer. However, he did manage to accomplish one thing…”

“What?” Hermione and Draco both asked.

“He and Ms. Chang received an invitation to a private party being held at Hogtied. It’s exclusively for those into breath play.” 

“Oh, that’s excellent!” Hermione said, very happy to hear that her plan had produced some tangible results.

“You know, I always thought Potter was a little dim, but getting invited to such an event on his first night out is rather impressive.”

“Lucius, Harry is very smart,” Hermione defended, irked by his jab about her friend.

Lucius smirked. “Yes, well, I’m sure it had little to do with his intellect. He makes a very convincing submissive.”

“I don’t think he was acting, Father,” Draco said with an amused smile.

Lucius chuckled. “No, after watching he and Ms. Chang play, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Hermione said quickly. 

“Neither do I.” Draco grimaced. “But if they’re going to that party, I think it should be Chang that plays the submissive. She could possibly lure the killer in,” he suggested.

Hermione turned to Draco, disturbed by how easy he had offered up such an idea. “I thought you were concerned about submissives being hurt by this killer?”

“I think Chang could whip any bloke into a confession,” he said with smirk.

Hermione groaned, swatting Draco playfully on the arm, prompting him to roll over atop of her and begin kissing her along her neck.

“No, not again,” she moaned reluctantly. “I’m going home.”

Lucius chuckled. “Hmm, yes… eventually.”

~~~*~~~

Ron had missed four key saves in the last game, and as a result, it looked as if the Cannons were not going to the Championships this year. He’d been receiving a slew of hate mail from his so-called fans, as well as many questions about whether his personal life was ruining his game.

Ron agreed; he blamed Hermione for his recent string of bad luck. The headlines and photographs of her and Malfoy was the stuff of nightmares. What did she see in that git? But the question that drove Ron completely insane was why he even cared about it!

Both of his girlfriends, Victoria and Emma, were growing tired of the news and his obsession with Hermione’s new relationship. Yes, it was true he had started collecting any magazine or newspaper that mentioned anything about her and her relationship with Malfoy. He’d also contacted a private investigator to find out where she went, especially with Malfoy. But Ron didn’t feel that he was obsessed. He could admit he was a bit focused on the affairs of his ex-wife, but he thought that he had good reason to be. He considered his girlfriends’ irritation with the situation to be indicative of their self-centredness. Why wasn’t anyone being sympathetic to his needs? 

Hermione seeing Draco was a calculated, blatant attack meant to humiliate him. He just knew it, and he wasn’t about to let it go. It had been affecting his game performance, and now it haunted his sleep and was slowly creeping into his relationships. Emma wanted to talk through it, but his other girlfriend, Victoria, had just about had enough. She was making herself scarcer, and Ron had a strong suspicion she was seeing someone on the side. 

He nearly didn’t care; she was far too needy for his tastes and lifestyle right now. In fact, Victoria was starting to remind him more and more of Hermione. 

_Women._

Ron was convinced that all he needed to do was to try to talk some sense into Hermione. He just had to get her alone one more time to control this situation before it completely drove him mad and ruined his career. He would be damned if let Hermione make him feel like a clumsy, mediocre, second-rate bloke again. Not this time.

~~~*~~~

When Hermione finally returned home around four in the afternoon that Sunday, she disintegrated the stack of Howlers waiting for her to enter before they had a chance to unfurl and yell at her. She didn’t have to hear them to know they were from Ron’s fans, scolding her for being a ‘floozy’ or a ‘tart’ because of her relationship with Draco.

 _‘If they only knew,’_ she thought, smirking to herself as she scooted the ashes into the rubbish bin. She didn’t even give the pile of regular post from Ron a second glance before tossing that out as well. However, there was one letter that gave her pause; it was a rather large white envelope underneath the usual ones. It had no return address, but she was pretty sure she recognised the writing. 

It was from Ron. She debated about whether she wanted to open it. Nothing he could possibly say could impact her life right now, so why bother? Still, it was much bigger than the other posts he sent. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself tearing into it. 

_So, you want to play dirty, Hermione? I can be just as nasty. I see that you’re determined to ruin me. Well, too bad, I won’t let you win! You better watch your back and tell Malfoy to watch his! My fans will not take kindly to how you’re carrying about. I won’t take any action if you agree to meet with me and discuss this like an adult. This is your last chance, and this time, tell the Ferret to stay at home!_

How dare he! The last time they had spoken, he had been the one who had crashed in on her scheduled meeting with Draco, not the other way around! Hermione couldn’t believe how narcissistic and irrational Ron sounded, more than she’d ever imagined he could ever be. 

As she stood staring down at the letter, uneasiness slowly unfurled in her stomach like a slow blooming flower. The threatening tone and anger conveyed actually concerned her. Ron seemed to be becoming unhinged. Although she had previously seen him act thoughtlessly and irrationally, this was extreme, even for him. She would save it, just in case Ron did something mental. 

What she really wanted to know was why was he so convinced she wanted to ruin _his_ life? Truthfully, she would be well within her rights after what he had done to her, but he should have known by now, she would never be so petty. Admittedly, when Hermione had first started fooling around with Lucius and Draco she’d had a brief fantasy of the anguish on Ron’s face after he learned about their affair. But that felt like it had been ages ago. If anyone were to ask her now, Hermione could genuinely say she loved both Lucius and Draco and she didn’t care what Ron thought of her relationship or what he did with his life. She was truly over him.

But despite the fact Ron had been the one to end their marriage; it was obvious he was not over her. Instead of feeling vindicated by the thought, it only left Hermione worried.

~~~*~~~

When she came to work the following morning, Simon Witherspoon was quick to chat up Hermione in the staff lounge. As they spoke, she noticed several other women appraising her and whispering but she put it out of her mind until the conversation was over. It was then she saw that they were sharing a newspaper. When she ventured over to see exactly what the fuss was about, they quickly said polite greetings and then rose to leave.

Once they were gone, Hermione took a closer look at the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ they’d left on the table. 

 

__

**_Maybe Next Year!_ **  
**_Weasley Misses Key Saves, Chudley Loses Chance At Championship_ **

_In an unfortunate upset, starting Keeper, Ron Weasley, missed three key saves that cost the Chudley Cannons an opportunity to be in the Championship tournament this year. Weasley started off the year strong, but his performance has been rapidly deteriorating. Rumours continue to swirl that his ex-wife’s personal life may have something to do with it. It has not gone unnoticed by Cannon fans that Weasley’s performance took a turn for a worse once his ex-wife was photographed dining with Draco Malfoy at the exclusive Carissa’s._

_Since then, their relationship has been publicly acknowledged and Weasley continues to underwhelm._

_No comment from Mr Weasley or Ms Granger, but we highly advise Ms. Granger to stay away from the Cannons’ stadium if she knows what’s good for her._

 

Hermione tried to control her face as she continued reading. She knew people were glancing at her for her reaction. It was bad enough Ron and his fans were sending her howlers, but now the press was legitimating their paranoid claims. 

She folded the paper, about to dispose of it, when a name on the back caught her eye.  
 _Lucius._ It was in the ‘Buzz Column’, a section notorious for unconfirmed hot rumours. 

Right after a rumour about one of Ron’s girlfriends, Victoria, reportedly being seen out at number of venues with different men, there was a rumour about Lucius.

**_Under His Spell?_ **

_Some may call the Ministry’s consideration of Lucius Malfoy as Head of the Board of Directors an outright fabrication, but word has it that it is a very real possibility. If it is true, he would be running against Pius Thickness for the coveted position. We wish Mr Malfoy the best of luck and would like to remind him that use of the Imperio Curse is still illegal._

 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, aghast. What a hurtful thing for a newspaper to print! Suddenly, she was very worried for Lucius. If _The Daily Prophet_ felt comfortable enough to attack him and bring up his past in such a nasty snide way, what would others be emboldened to say or do? 

She wanted to rush to the Manor to discuss it with Lucius and reassure him, but she knew he wouldn’t take to coddling. A strategic plan for securing votes and making the past seem more distant would be the best way to deal with such hate and ignorance. That, and minimising the possibility that the Christian Van Buron murder produced any public speculation about Lucius. Hermione knew she’d have to think more on it but she was determined to help Lucius control public relations and get him elected to Head of the Board.

~~~*~~~

Monday evening, Hermione put the last touches on her salad and checked her lasagna just before the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, she found Harry standing there in denims and a black t-shirt, with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of assorted flowers in another.

“Hi,” he said almost bashfully, giving her a small smile.

“Harry,” she beamed, giving him a firm hug. He held her for only a moment before pulling away awkwardly, raising the bottle for her to take.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot, I thought you’d like these for your kitchen, or dining room, or wherever,” he said, handing her the flowers.

“How sweet of you.”

Harry gave her a sheepish smile. “Well I think I owe you much more than that; a year lost between friends is going to be hard to make up.”

Hermione nodded and turned towards the kitchen to put down the wine and find a vase for the flowers. “Well, it’s not as if I reached out to you either. I suppose we’re both a bit to blame.”

When Harry didn’t answer, she returned to the foyer to see what he was up to. He was still just standing there. He offered another closed lipped smile and glanced around uncomfortably.

“Well, kick off your trainers and make yourself comfortable,” she said quickly, trying to end the awkward silence. 

Both she and Harry jumped when they heard a heavy thud outside her front door. They exchange a brief puzzled look and then rushed to the door. Harry blocked Hermione protectively and shook his head and put a finger to his mouth. Hermione backed away, watching nervously as he pulled out his wand and quickly opened the door. 

Hermione peeked over his shoulder. 

As Harry inched forward, leaning over her stoop to stare down at the bushes, Hermione heard the sound of footsteps running off in the distance.

Harry ran out towards the sound, but the footsteps were fading fast. It was just past dusk, and Hermione couldn’t see anything. Harry looked back at her with a worried expression. 

Hermione forced a dismissive smile. “Probably a reporter.” 

Harry frowned. “Do you get that a lot?”

“Yes, but don’t worry,” she said, trying to wave it off casually. “I’m used to it. Come back inside.”

Harry peered out once more and then returned inside. She watched in amusement as he began peeking around, taking his time to follow her towards the living room.

“Nice place…” he commented.

Hermione gave him a wry smile. “Thanks. I suppose there are a few perks to being the ex-wife of a million Galleon athlete, even if he’s a total arse.” 

“Hermione, what happened? To you two, I mean?” he asked gently.

Hermione sighed. “Fame happened, Harry. Oh, I almost forgot…” she said, turning towards the kitchen. She picked up the plate of hors d'oeuvres she had prepared, bringing them back into the living room to place on the coffee table before him.

“You didn’t have to get all fancy for me,” Harry said, staring at the plate. 

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t entertain often; I rarely even sleep here anymore, so let me have fun with it, all right?”

Harry smiled. “All right.”

“As I was saying, it all changed as soon as Ron started making the front page of the Quidditch section,” she continued. 

Harry sighed. “I guess I really didn’t want to see it. I mean, I was just happy he had more confidence in himself. And it was nice to see him finally excel at something, you know?”

“Yes, that’s exactly how I felt at first!” she exclaimed, relieved to finally vent about Ron with someone who could understand. “But then he let it all go to his head. He changed overnight just like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“So it had been going on for a while, then?” Harry asked.

“Almost four years, Harry! We kept up appearances, for friends and family, but truthfully, we only had one really good year together before everything went to shite.” 

“Hermione!” Harry stared at her in shock.

“What?” she asked in puzzlement.

“Since when do you curse?” Harry asked, looking at her strangely.

Hermione put her hand on her hip. “Harry, I’ve cursed before.”

“Well, I’ve never heard it!”

“Just stick around then,” she said with a smirk.

Harry eyed her curiously. “Why do I get the feeling that’s Malfoy’s influence?”

“Which one?” she asked with sly smile.

Harry grimaced. “Ugh! I still can’t believe you’re seeing _both_ of them. How exactly did that happen?”

She shrugged, pouring him a glass of wine. “Really, it’s just one of those things. I didn’t plan it. I went to one of Lucius’ parties with Draco. By the end of the night, one thing led to another, and the next thing I know I’m seeing both of them.”

Harry shook his head. “You know Ron will go troll-shit if he ever found out.” 

Hermione scowled. “It’s not his business what I do. We’re not together anymore.”

“Right, all the same, you know he has a hard time of letting things go, even when he’s the one that mucks it up.”

“Yes, well, if he doesn’t stop badgering me…” she muttered. 

“What? Ron’s been bothering you?” Harry asked in concern.

Hermione huffed. “Yes, he’s constantly owling me! It almost feels like…” She closed her mouth, not sure if she should make such unfounded accusations, especially to Harry. She knew it would get him upset.

“What is it, Hermione?” Harry pressed.

Hermione shook her head. 

Harry’s face grew tight. “You think he’s following you, don’t you? Are you sure that was a just a reporter we scared off?”

“Probably…”

Harry gave her a doubtful stare.

Hermione sighed. “Oh, all right. It’s possible he’s having me followed, but I really don’t know. A lot of his fans are upset with me as well.”

Harry levelled a grave stare. “Hermione, I know you. When you have a hunch, you’re usually right. Now, you were about to tell me something about Ron, and it wasn’t good. Finish it. What’s going on?”

Hermione leaned back. The tone of Ron’s letters, and his persistence, conjured up a disturbing memory of his angriest face. He was quite frightening when he was that angry, and he seemed to be growing angrier with each correspondence. 

“Harry, I feel like Ron is becoming… unhinged.”

“You mean like going mad?” Harry asked. 

“I don’t know. He’s always asking to meet with me, and it’s getting creepy how persistent he is about it. I’ve never seen him like this. And a few weeks ago he just appeared out of the blue!”

“What? Here?” Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. “No, thank goodness. I’d scheduled to meet Draco for lunch in an unknown café and Ron shows up first!” 

“Oh, no,” Harry groaned. “How do you think he got your schedule?”

That was something that had been bugging Hermione since the incident occurred. She didn’t trust hardly anyone at her job now because of it. 

“I’m not sure really, but I do use the Ministry calendar. But mine is spell protected.”

“Then maybe Ron _is_ following you or at least having you followed. I’m sure he could get a private investigator easy enough.”

Hermione nodded solemnly. 

“I’ll look into it,” Harry reassured. “And I’ll have a talk with him myself. He can’t harass you. If someone is following you, I’ll put a stop it.”

Hermione gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Harry. As long as no one finds out about my relationship with both Lucius _and_ Draco, I think I’ll be fine.”

“And how long do you think you can keep that a secret?” Harry asked sceptically.

“As long as we need to, we’ve been very discreet,” she said proudly.

Harry shook his head. “Hermione, this is going to land you in the middle of a load of controversy and scandal.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. Besides, maybe one day we’ll want to go public.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, Harry. I’m not the same girl you remember. I can’t give a fig about what people think about me. When we’re ready, we will tell everyone.”

Harry looked at her in amazement. “Fine, but just warn me the day before, all right?”

Hermione wrinkled her brow. “Why?”

“I don’t want to be anywhere near London when that gets out.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t stay and defend me?” 

It took a few moments but finally, Harry nodded reluctantly. “Yes, of course I would, but I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Hermione smiled, happy to hear that Harry would be there for her no matter what. 

“You really do have to be careful, Hermione. If news of this got out, it could ruin you,” Harry warned. 

“Oh? And what about your own love life? It has the makings for scandal as well,” she retorted.

Instead of responding, Harry picked up a hors d’oeuvre. He kept his silence, chewing very slowly. 

Hermione sighed. She'd forgotten how tight-lipped Harry could be about certain subjects. In spite of all they had been through together, it was obvious he was still intent on forcing Hermione to pry the truth out of him. 

Reaching out, she placed one hand on his knee. “Harry, relax. I’m your best friend, remember?”

Harry looked down at the floor and swallowed. “Hermione, things with Cho are sort of complicated…”

Patting his knee, Hermione forced a small smile. “Let’s talk about it over dinner. It should be about ready, now.”

As they sat down to dinner Hermione started off broaching much easier topics, like her pending promotion, which opened up a discussion about Harry’s undercover Auror work, his cover and love of coaching little league Quidditch. It wasn’t long before Harry loosened up and started talking about his leads from the party.

“I don’t know if I told you but there were a few people there from Hogwarts,” he said with an amused smile.

Hermione’s brow wrinkled. She had heard him mention it but still couldn’t imagine who from Hogwarts could have possibly been at the party. No one’s name on the guest list was remotely familiar and everyone had been in masks, so she hadn’t recognised anyone. 

“Yes, I remember you saying something about that, but who exactly?”

Harry was almost bouncing in his seat. “For starters, I’m pretty sure Marcus Flint was there.”

Hermione quickly tried to recall exactly who from the party fit the profile of Marcus Flint. “Really?” 

Harry nodded. “And Creevey…”

“Dennis Creevey? Wow, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, he sort of disappeared for a while; had a rough time of it after his brother’s death.”

Hermione suddenly remembered Creevey’s older brother and felt a rush of sadness for his untimely death. 

“Oh, and Hannah as well,” Harry added.

Hermione almost dropped her fork. “Hannah Abbott?”

Harry smiled. “Yep.”

Hermione gasped. She couldn’t picture Hannah Abbott at a kinky event, at all. But then again, just a few months ago, she wouldn’t have pictured herself at one, either. 

“That’s incredible, Harry. You figured out the identity of three former schoolmates within a few hours! How exactly did you do that? Everyone was wearing masks.”

Harry smiled. “Ah, you underestimate my charms,” he said wagging his eyebrows. 

Hermione laughed softly. She was impressed. “Charms? You mean your bare chest and tight leathers? Lucius told me that you got invited to an exclusive party. I suppose you’ll credit that to your _charms_ as well?”

Harry chuckled. “Oh, no, Cho made that one happen. She’s sexy as hell and apparently people are interested in watching her abuse me.”

Hermione smirked. “You do make a very interesting submissive.”

Blushing, Harry gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Enough about that. This party we were invited to is going to be full of people into choking and such.”

“Sounds fun,” Hermione said sarcastically.

“It could be a major break,” Harry said enthusiastically.

“I hope so. The sooner you catch the killer, the better.”

Harry’s smile faded as he looked back at Hermione. 

“What is it?” she asked in concern.

He sat up straighter. “We also found out more about Christina.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked. She didn’t like the way Harry was staring at her, and she was very curious to find out more about the victim as well. It was clear that Lucius had considered Christina to be a close friend. 

“Well,” Harry continued. “It’s likely that whoever killed Christina probably knew her.”

“And how did you find that out?” she asked, disliking the innuendo in Harry’s voice. 

“From the talk at the party,” Harry informed. “People who knew her say that she was very selective about who she played with, and apparently she had a thing for blonds…” he finished ominously.

Hermione felt like air had gotten caught in her throat. She began to cough. “Blonds? Blond men?”

“That’s what everyone who knew her said,” he said gravely. 

Hermione shook her head, refusing to let her mind follow the conclusions such information conjured. “That doesn’t really help Lucius one bit. We’ll have to dig deeper.”

Harry put down his fork, staring at her. “Hermione, are you sure you can trust Lucius?”

Suddenly, Hermione felt very protective of Lucius. She knew Harry had a grudge against him. It was justified, yes, but he didn’t know the man, not the way she did. 

“Yes, Harry, I trust him more than I trust most people!” she said emphatically. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “And what about Draco?” he probed.

Hermione huffed. “Harry, they’re my lovers! I think I’d know if one of them was a killer!”

“Well, it _is_ suspicious that Malfoy’s invitation was on Christina at the time of her death,” Harry said cautiously. 

“Did you stop to think that perhaps someone is trying to frame him?” she posed.

Harry scoffed. “And why would anyone want to do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps they have a vendetta against him? There are still plenty of people who hate him, and you know it!” she said accusingly. 

Harry sighed. “You know, Hermione, it would be much easier to clear Lucius of suspicion if he came up with a better alibi than the word of his house-elf. That’s so weak.” 

Hermione bit her lip. “Uh...he does have a better alibi.”

Harry threw up his hands. “What is it?”

Hermione winced. “He was with Draco and I.”

“ _That’s_ his alibi?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes, that’s his alibi, and that’s the truth!” Hermione insisted.

Harry groaned. “Well, that’s not very helpful. If he uses that, it outs your relationship.”

“If it comes to that, then I’m prepared,” she said resolutely. 

“Hermione, listen to what you’re saying, have you thought this through to its conclusion?” Harry asked. 

“Of course I have,” Hermione said stiffly. 

It was true. She had worked out the possible outcomes of their relationship and none of them were ideal. However, she wasn’t willing to give up either Lucius or Draco because of it.

“So you think that you three will just live happily ever after like one big incestuous family?” Harry asked in disgust. “Have you thought about marriage? Children?”

Hermione clenched the napkin in her lap—it was all she could do not to snap at Harry and tell him it was none of his business. She didn’t want to shut him out, not when they were making another go at their friendship, so she tried to quell her defensiveness. 

“Harry, not every relationship has to fit in some picture perfect mould. What’s an ideal relationship supposed to look like anyway?”

“I’ll tell you what it doesn’t look like. It doesn’t look like what you three have going on. A father, son and the Muggle-born witch they used to torment is far from ideal. Most would even call it dysfunctional.”

Hermione’s upper lift tightened as she tried to think of a retort. She knew how such a relationship would look to others. Hell, sometimes _she_ even thought it was too freaky. But she was in love and it was working out fine, so she had resigned herself to make the most of it. 

“I suppose you’re right, but we all love each other …that must count for something,” she said quietly, feeling defeated. 

Harry didn’t respond, he simply stared at her. Hermione’s heart sank to see the look of pity on his face. She began to play with her food, not sure what else there was to say. 

“I suppose though, it’s just as dysfunctional as Lucius teaching Cho how to spank my arse,” Harry said.

Hermione gave him a small smile, pleased at his attempt to make her feel better with the use of self-deprecating humour. 

“How did that go, by the way?” she asked.

Harry blushed. “All right, I suppose,” he replied softly. 

“I have to say, it was rather shocking seeing you like _that,_ taking orders and being so deferential,” she tried to say with a straight face.

They stared at each other briefly before breaking out into sniggers. 

Harry’s face grew serious, and he looked down at his plate. 

“Hermione, I think I’m in love with her, and I think she loves me, too.”

The thought of her ex-sister-in-law’s temper made Hermione apprehensive for Harry and Cho. “Harry, what about Ginny?”

Harry covered his face with both hands in despair. “Ginny’s the reason why I haven’t been in touch with anyone. I mean seriously, when’s the last time you saw us out and about?” 

Hermione frowned. “Good point. You know, I was telling Cho the other day that I haven’t seen you since the last Ministry party.” 

“That’s because we don’t go out!”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked as she tried to picture Harry locked up at home.

Harry stabbed his plate with his fork. “Ever since she left the Harpies, she’s determined to maintain a ‘normal’ family life. She gets really upset if I’m not at home.”

“You don’t like spending time with your wife at home?” 

Harry threw his head back, looking exhausted. “Not when it’s forced! It feels like it’s mechanical now, and I don’t feel like I have any freedom. Whenever I leave the house, she gets possessive on me. And she absolutely hates being out in public with me. We’ve had a few rather nasty incidents with admirers of mine.”

Hermione had actually heard about that. Ginny’s catty and curt responses to Harry’s well-wishers had made good tabloid fodder right after the war. 

“She doesn’t like people coming up to me, so we stay in,” Harry continued. “But being forced to stay away from the public and to be constantly by her side is killing me.”

Hearing Harry speak of his marriage to Ginny in such a way was heart breaking and bizarre. Harry had never been one to follow anyone else’s rules unless forced to, and she couldn’t imagine how Ginny had managed to assume so much power over him.

“Harry,” Hermione started.

“You asked, Hermione. This is my life now, and it’s pretty shitty,” Harry said. “Ginny and I don’t work. I’m starting to think that we’ve never really worked at all. I just convinced myself we did.” 

Hermione reached across the table to hold his hand. “Then why are you still married to her? This doesn’t sound like you at all. Since when do you live by someone else’s rules? End it if it’s that bad. Don’t lead her on.”

Harry looked tired and forlorn as he considered Hermione’s request. “Hermione, it’s not as simple as that. If Molly knew—”

“You’re not married to Mrs Weasley, Harry; you’re married to Ginny! And if it’s not working then you two are the only ones that can and should be making decisions about it! You can’t stay in a bad marriage to protect the feelings of your mother-in-law. That’s completely mad!” 

“I know, but Mrs Weasley is like a mum to me, and I really hate the thought of breaking her heart.”

“And what about Ginny, Harry? You think lying to her is better?” Hermione pressed.

Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he contemplated her question. “I suppose I’ve just given up, accepted that this is the way it will be with us. The idea of divorcing Ginny, it would mean divorcing the Weasleys. They’re my family, Hermione. I can’t imagine life without them, really.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Harry, listen to yourself. You’re depressed. I can’t believe you really think that if you split with Ginny you’d be divorcing the Weasleys. They love you, and always will. And if you really love Cho, you wouldn’t start anything until this is finished. It’s not fair to her, or you, and it’s definitely not fair to Ginny.”

“I know, Hermione, but we haven’t done anything. Honestly,” he said.

Hermione looked at him doubtfully. “If you say so, but Harry I saw the way you held her when she hugged you. Both of you looked rather comfortable, like you do that a lot.”

Harry blushed again. “We just give each other hugs, and perhaps an occasional kiss here and there, it’s not often,” he said shamefully.

“Harry…”

“I know, I know. I’ll talk to Ginny, promise.” 

“And if you don’t, I’ll advise Cho to move on,” Hermione threatened. 

“What?” Harry looked shocked.

“Harry, you know I love you, but Cho is a very dear friend, and she deserves an honest, straightforward one-woman man. And if she can’t have that with you, then it’s going to be your loss!” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

The surprise on Harry’s face gave Hermione hope that perhaps, now, he finally understood the danger of complacency. 

Finally he nodded. “All right.”

Hermione relaxed a little, feeling optimistic that he would do the right thing. “You better, or you’ll be searching for someone else to spank your bottom,” she teased.

Harry gave her a small embarrassed smile.

Satisfied they had reconnected and discussed so much, Hermione reclined back in her seat, full and content. “Are you up for some treacle tart?”

Harry’s eyes lit up immediately. “Really?” he said with a grin.

“Did you think I’d ever forget?” Hermione asked, rising to retrieve the hidden cooling tart from the counter.

Harry licked his lips, eyeing the treat before glancing anxious up at the kitchen clock. “I better eat it fast. Ginny expected me to be back over half an hour ago. She may even come over here looking for me.”

“Well, I’ve waited almost a year to see you. If she wants to stand on my stoop until you finish your tart, that’s fine by me,” she said, bringing him a plate.


	13. Collision

When Hermione arrived at work the following morning, she decided to wait in the lounge for Draco. However, when he didn’t show, she returned to her office and worked until her usual noon lunchtime break.

Taking a chance, she ventured to his department and was met by curious stares as she walked back to his office. She heard voices inside, but knocked on his door anyway. When the door opened, an older gentleman greeted her, giving her a small smile and curt nod. Hermione vaguely recognised him as one of the members of the Ministry’s Board. He gave Draco a brief parting word and then quickly exited.

Draco rose from his chair, his face impassive and his eyes distant, as if he didn’t realise Hermione was in the room.

“Draco, I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d drop by to pick you up for lunch,” she said in her cheeriest voice. 

Draco’s eyes finally snapped into focus. “That’s great, let’s go.”

As they sat in the lunchroom, Draco remained silent, eating and looking more at his food and past her than she cared for. 

“Draco, is something the matter?” 

“It’s nothing.”

“Obviously,” she said sarcastically. “You’re very quiet, and you’re brooding.”

Draco glanced around cautiously. As usual, there were people giving them curious glances, others were staring outright. 

“You’d think they’d be over it already,” Hermione said, glaring at the onlookers. “We’ve been seeing each for—.” 

“One month and six days,” he said.

Hermione eyebrows rose in surprise. “Yes, that’s right… I suppose it will take a while for others to get used to it. Sometimes I still can’t believe it,” she said with a smile. 

He didn’t return her smile. 

“Draco, what’s wrong?” she demanded.

Draco shook his head. “It’s this promotion. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

Hermione frowned. “What happened?”

Draco set his jaw. “You saw Mr. Davidson leaving my office, right?”

“Yes?”

“Hermione, he’s the most senior member of the Board.”

“I know. What did he want?” she pressed. 

“He claims he wants to get better acquainted with me. He even invited me out to lunch, but I declined. I know what he really wants.”

“Which is?”

Draco sighed. “He wants to know more about Father.”

“What kind of information does he want?” Hermione asked.

“I’m not sure, but I told him that if he wants to get to know my Father better, he should go talk to him himself since he sits on the Board with him. He didn’t take too kindly to that. Davidson said I’d do well to remember that my loyalty should lie with the Ministry first, no matter who the future Head of the Board will be.”

“What do you think he meant by that?” Hermione asked. 

“If I had to guess, I’d say it has something to do with the parties,” Draco whispered. “I think the Board is going to start sniffing around and when they do, something foul about Father is bound to turn up.” 

Hermione was troubled by the worried on Draco’s face. He wasn’t one to be so expressive in public. “They aren’t supposed to be going about it like this,” she said. “Unless…”

“What?” Draco asked urgently.

“Unless someone who knows about the parties has been talking.”

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Hermione reached over the table to put a reassuring hand over his. “Draco, don’t worry. We just need to talk to Lucius about his strategy for securing votes and fending off personal attacks.” 

“I don’t like this, Hermione. Something tells me that this is going to get ugly,” Draco said anxiously.

“We’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t,” Hermione said. “Leave it to me. I’m going to make sure Lucius wins this election, and anyone who tries to hurt him will regret it.”

Draco shook his head and a slow reluctant smile grew on his face. He leaned in to kiss her and Hermione smiled against his lips as the familiar sounds of gasps and murmurs reached her ears. 

“Are you trying to cause an uproar?” she whispered.

“It’s why you love me, I think,” he whispered back.

“Did I say I loved you? I meant I love your hair. It’s simply fabulous,” she teased.

“Keep at it, and you’ll earn yourself a spanking,” Draco threatened with a devilish look in his eye. “Or was that your plan all along?”

“Now you’re catching on,” Hermione said with a wink. 

“After work, your place,” Draco said, giving her one last kiss on the cheek. “I have to get back to work. We have a staff meeting in five minutes.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t want Draco coming to her place on such short notice, but before she could get a word out, he had arisen and was briskly making his way back to his department.

~~~*~~~

She tried to rush to her house after work, but when Hermione arrived, Draco was already there.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Draco licked his lips and gave her a saucy smile as he knocked on the door. “Come on; get it open so I can shag you into the floor.”

Hermione let out a nervous laugh, trying to calm her nerves despite the fact that she was anxious about what awaited her once she got inside. 

Once she opened the door, she walked briskly to the foyer desk, determined to block Draco’s view of the post that was always collected there when she arrived home. She only needed a few seconds to disintegrate the Howlers before they opened. But Draco was on her heels, and before she could even turn around, he moved past her.

“You’re getting Howlers?” he asked, as one unfurled before their eyes.

 _“Hermione, stop playing this fucking game! If you don’t reply back, I’ll find you myself. Either way you’re going to have to talk to me sooner or later!”_ bellowed Ron’s voice.

Draco’s eyes were wide with shock as the Howler burst into flames. “What the hell?” 

Hermione inwardly groaned; of all the Howlers Draco had to hear, it would be one from Ron. 

“Draco, it’s nothing. He’s just a bit jealous. He’ll get over it, soon.” She tried to sound nonchalant but she felt anything but after hearing Ron’s booming voice. He was becoming downright frightening.

“Soon?” Draco narrowed his eyes. “How long has this been going on?”

Hermione swallowed. “Does it really matter? They’re just owls and Howlers. I don’t even open them anymore.” 

“Yes, it matters!” Draco said in exasperation. “How long?”

Hermione sighed. “Ever since _The Daily Prophet_ reported that we were seeing each other.”

Draco grit his teeth, filing his fingers over the other posts and Howlers, assessing the volume. “Are they all from him?”

Hermione shrugged and pulled out her wand to disintegrate the Howlers before they could explode. “Probably not. I’d say it’s mostly from his fans, but it varies from day to day.”

“Hermione, this is harassment! That git has gone mental!”

“Well, he thinks that I’m trying to sabotage his career,” she explained. 

Draco scoffed, looking bewildered. “That has to be _the_ most idiotic thing I’ve heard in years!”

“Sometimes Ron can be pretty irrational and stubborn. Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s hard for him to let go of it,” she said with resignation. 

“Well, I’ve had enough of this! No one harasses my girl!” Draco began collecting the letters.

Hermione could feel her apprehension growing. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it,” Draco said darkly.

“Draco, please, don’t give him any reason to cause more trouble. Just let it be. Harry is handling it.”

“ _Harry?_ ” Draco looked at her in annoyance. “I doubt that! Hermione, Potter is Weasley’s best mate!”

“Not so much anymore,” she explained. “Now that Harry knows everything…”

“What do you mean, _everything_? What else is going on?”

Hermione sighed. “Draco, you have to promise you won’t overreact.”

Draco moved in close, his nose almost touching hers, and his eyes burning with barely controlled anger. “Hermione, if you don’t tell me what happened right now, you haven’t seen overreacting.”

Hermione braced herself, speaking slowly and carefully, trying to downplay the gravity of her next words. “Well, it seems that perhaps Ron has been having me followed.”

“What?”

“It’s not what you think, though. I think he’s just trying to dig up some dirt on me or you, or something... I don’t know, but Harry is taking care of it.”

“Why you didn’t tell _me_ or Father?”

“I didn’t want to alarm either one of you.”

“Too late. When I see that git, he’s going to wish he had gone to play for another country,” Draco snarled.

“Draco, please, calm down. I really don’t want to think or talk about this anymore. I just want to get away from all of this and have a nice quiet evening for a change, all right?”

She waited with bated breath under his heated stare, hoping he’d relax and let it go. When he closed his eyes and pulled her close, she breathed a sigh of relief, her mind racing with thoughts of how to put an end to the Ron problem before it got worse.

~~~*~~~

_That weekend…_

 

Unbeknownst to Draco, Hermione had owled Ron to set up a meeting at a discreet location. She wanted to hear what he wanted and try to talk some sense into him. If all else failed, at the very least, she would warn him that she had the law and powerful friends on her side and that any further harassment meant he would be endangering his career and public image. She didn’t want to draw that card until she had to, but she was ready for it, if Ron couldn’t be reasonable. 

They agreed to meet Saturday afternoon in a very Muggle part of London where the wizarding press and other witches and wizards did not frequent. Despite that, Hermione wore sunshades and a big hat as a precaution, deciding it was best to Apparate to a familiar bookstore within a few blocks of the area they had arranged to meet. 

When she arrived at the bookstore, she walked out onto the street. She approached the corner of the shop and shrieked as she was pulled into an alley by a pair of strong hands. 

It was Ron, and he looked quite angry. 

“Ron!” she said in dismay, trying not to sound as frightened as she felt. 

“I knew you’d come to the bookstore first.” 

A shiver went down her spine, and then she scowled, trying to shake off her nerves. She thought of drawing her wand, but there were Muggles passing by. Still, she kept her hand on it in her pocket.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Ron asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione opened her mouth in shock. “Ron, I came here to talk to you, like adults.” 

“Adults, eh? Adults don’t play the games you’re playing, Hermione,” he said in a scolding tone that Hermione found infuriating.

“What are you _talking_ about, Ron? I’m not playing any game!”

“Right, I’m not daft, Hermione. I can see what you’re doing. You’ve been trying to undermine my confidence!”

“What?” Hermione stared back at him in confusion. 

“Oh don’t look at me like that! I’m not buying that naïve act of yours. I know how vindictive you can be!” he said accusingly. 

“Vindictive?” Hermione was truly hurt by that remark. She didn’t consider herself to be a vindictive person at all.

“Yeah, or did you really think that I forgot about the birds you attacked me with? Or that time you had the word ‘Snitch’ permanently marked on Marietta’s forehead. Or when you kidnapped and blackmailed Skeeter? You can be a right nasty piece of work when you put your mind to it,” Ron said matter-of-factly.

Hermione was speechless! Was Ron really reaching back to their years at Hogwarts for excuses? Her temporary shock only seemed to encourage Ron’s confidence. 

A dark, smug smile grew on his face. Apparently he thought he had hit a nerve, exposing her guilt.

“Haven’t got anything to say in your defence, have you? I knew it! So you are using Malfoy to get to me, then!”

Finally, Hermione found her voice. She huffed in exasperation. “Ron, that has got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, and considering some of the daft shite that comes out of your mouth, that’s quite an accomplishment. Just listen to yourself! Listen to how arrogant and self-centred you sound to think that everything I’m doing is a plot to ruin you!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Ron said stubbornly. “Then how do you explain you working around Malfoy all this time, and then as soon as we get divorced, you two start going out?” 

“You divorced me! I can see whomever I like! Just like you can see Tart and Totty,” she said mockingly.

“Victoria and Emma,” Ron corrected curtly.

“Oh, whatever!” she said in frustration. “The point is, you moved on right away, so why can’t I?”

“That’s different. You know I hate Malfoy! And no one thinks it’s a coincidence that you chose _him_ , flashing yourself in all the papers so everyone could see.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “For your information, Ronald, I happen to be in love with Draco. He’s intelligent, very attractive, and we have fantastic chemistry! More than you and I ever had. And unlike yourself, Draco doesn’t seek the press, they seek him!”

Ron scoffed. “I’m a million Galleon athlete Hermione, I can’t help if the public wants a piece of me all the time,” he boasted.

“Oh, gods!”

“You can’t handle it, can you?” Ron asked, not bothering to hide his triumphant smile. “You’re upset that I’m so successful now. That’s why you put up such a fuss while we were married. You were jealous! And now that I’ve shown you that I can move on without you, you’re trying to show me up because you can’t let it go. You’re _still_ jealous.”

Hermione genuinely laughed. “And who gave you that brilliant idea, Ron? One of your fans?”

“As a matter of fact, my fans care a great deal about me. And yeah, they’ve been giving me some food for thought lately. Like how _do_ I know you weren’t fooling around with Malfoy before we got divorced?”

Hermione smirked, slyly. “You don’t.”

Ron froze in shock.

Hermione couldn’t help chuckling at his reaction, but it was short-lived. She knew she could never stand to stoop to such lowbrow antics, even if Ron deserved it. 

“Oh, close your mouth, Ron. I didn’t cheat on you because _I_ took our vows seriously!” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean? I never cheated on you!” Ron protested.

Hermione shook her head. “You know what, Ron, it doesn’t even matter now, does it? We’re divorced! It’s not my problem you’re having a bad Quidditch season. Perhaps you should spend less time harassing me about who I see and think about why what I do affects you so much!”

Ron’s face became red, and his squeezed his fists as his sides. Hermione stood her ground, staring him down. She was tired of this conversation, she had more important things to do, and she wanted to be done with him, for good.

“Now, if you’re quite done, I came here to tell you that if we can’t agree to just move on peacefully, then I’ll be forced to take more drastic action.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ron challenged. 

“Yes, Ron, I hate to say this, but you’ve pushed me to it. If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to have to file a public complaint. This is harassment,” she warned.

“Harassment?” Ron repeated. “Well, if I’m harassing you, then you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Hermione stepped back from Ron. For the first time ever, she was afraid of him. What did he mean she hadn’t seen anything yet?

“That’s right, Hermione. I came here today to tell you that if you don’t stop fuelling all of the press about you and Malfoy going out, I’ll be forced to drum up some press of my own, and you won’t like it,” he said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. If he thought he could control her with threats, he was sorely mistaken. “Is that a threat?”

“No, Hermione, it’s a promise.” Ron’s voice was deadly calm voice.

“Did you forget my promise, Weasley?” someone drawled from behind Ron.

Hermione gasped as a spot of white-blond hair appeared just to the side of Ron’s head. 

Ron whirled around, and the air left Hermione as he did. Draco was standing very close; his face was tight, with barely restrained anger she hadn’t seen in since their days at Hogwarts. She wondered how long he had been there, and how he had found her, but that was the least of her worries; she knew the possibility of a physical confrontation was very real. 

“I warned you, Weasley. Leave her alone, or else.” Draco tone was calm but steely.

“So? I’m not scared of you, Malfoy.” 

Draco’s upper lip curled slightly. “That’s your problem, Weasley; you’re too clueless to know what’s good for you.”

Draco walked around Ron, the redhead turning to follow his gaze as he stepped between Ron and Hermione. 

“Draco…” Hermione started.

“Who asked you, Ferret? This is none of your business!”

“Wrong, Weasel. Hermione is my business, and you need a lesson on messing with things that are mine,” Draco informed. 

Ron gave Draco an once-over, then snarled and raised his fist. 

Hermione rushed forward to intervene, but when she did, Ron pushed her to the side. Draco withdrew his wand.

“Draco, no, don’t!” she screamed, glancing to her side at a couple of Muggles passing on the other side of the street. If Draco was caught performing magic in front of Muggles, especially a hex, it could land him in a load of trouble. 

Draco peeked over to see what Hermione was looking at, and when he did, Ron’s fist hit Draco’s jaw with so much force that Hermione heard the distinctive sound of something cracking. Hermione intuitively moved to block Draco from Ron.

“Get out of the way, ‘Mione,” Ron growled.

“No, Ron! Stop this, now!” she pleaded, withdrawing her wand. She had no intention of hexing him, she only meant to scare Ron into using some sense. Only Ron was not deterred, instead, he moved forward quickly to smack her hand away from his face. The force of the contact knocked Hermione’s wand from her hand. She heard it hit the ground and roll over the cobblestone. 

Before she could look to see where it had gone, she was pushed to the side once more, this time by Draco. His face was contorted in rage and his chin was smeared with blood from the cut on mouth. He ran at Ron full speed with both hands in front of him, pushing the redhead up against the double plated glass of the bookstore. Ron’s back hit the glass with a thud. He was temporarily stunned. 

Draco took the opportunity to throw a hard right punch, colliding directly with Ron’s jaw, and then quickly drew back to punch Ron dead in the nose. Instantly, blood began to gush from Ron’s broken nose, but there was still determination on his face. He quickly put up his right arm to block Draco’s next punch and then swung back his left fist, delivering another harsh blow to Draco’s injured jaw. 

Hermione clasped her hand over her mouth in horror as Draco let out a strangled howl of pain, holding his bleeding mouth. 

“Ron, stop!” she yelled. 

Her eyes were wild, scanning the street for a Muggle policeman or security guard. To her dismay, there were several Muggles beginning to take note of the three of them. Some were moving forward, crossing the street curiously.

She heard glass crack and turned back to see Draco throwing his fists wildly, landing against Ron’s chest, stomach and arms, while Ron struggled to push him off. Draco’s right fist made one last quick uppercut, striking Ron in the chin so hard that Hermione heard the crack of his knuckles hitting Ron’s bone. 

The blow did not subdue Ron; instead, he appeared enraged. Hermione let out a fearful gasp as he pushed Draco back into the street and began pummelling his face with his fists. 

Panic began to set in as she watched Ron throw two hard punches that sent Draco down on his back, defensively, against the pavement. She had already warned Draco not to use his wand, but now Hermione felt horribly guilty about it because if he had, Ron would have been disabled immediately. She looked down at the cobblestone frantically searching for her wand but it was nowhere in sight, the only thing she saw was stone and feet of the medium size crowd of Muggles that had gathered. 

Immediately, her eyes were drawn back to Ron. He loomed over Draco, throwing punch after punch while Draco tried to protect his face with his hands. Ron was too big and out of control. When he couldn’t land a blow directly, his punches pushed Draco’s hands against his face. 

Hermione’s eyes caught something sticking out of Ron’s back pocket; his wand! She began to think of several strategies of how she could distract him to retrieve it and stun him, but every one of her thoughts were frozen when Ron threw a hard punch that made Draco groan loudly in pain. 

Hermione felt paralysed. Where were the Muggle police when you needed them? 

She didn’t want to turn around and search the street for her wand, she didn’t want to take her eyes away from Ron or Draco, and she wasn’t sure what Ron would do if she approached. The small crowd now gathered around them, murmuring and watching in shock only seemed to make the situation seem worse. The thought of jumping on Ron’s back or rushing him from behind was becoming more tempting by the minute. 

“Oh, my God, he’s going to really hurt him!” a woman cried frantically.

Hermione’s paralysis broke. She had to stop the fight. It may have meant getting into trouble, but at least the Aurors would arrive to help.

She held her mouth shut for fear of screaming and giving Ron too much warning as she ran full speed at him, pushing him hard from the back. Ron fell forward hard, landing on his forearms, hands, and knees. Hermione grabbed his wand from his back pocket and as soon as she did, he rolled over, staring up at her in wide-eyed confusion. She didn’t waste another second.

“Stupefy!” 

Ron’s entire body went rigid, his mouth open in surprise, his body as stiff as a board when his head fell softly back against the pavement. Someone screamed, and instantly, four Aurors, dressed in plain Muggle clothing, surrounded Hermione. A fog descended around all of them, and before she knew it, they were encased in a grey cloud shielding them from the view of the Muggle crowd.

“Who here just performed magic in plain sight of Muggles?” bellowed the Auror closest to Hermione.

“I did!” Hermione said, pointing at Ron. “My… my ex-husband attacked my boyfriend.”

The Aurors looked at the petrified body of Ron Weasley next to a bleeding and badly beaten Draco in stunned disbelief for a few moments before speaking. 

“Is that Weasley? Ron Weasley?” one of them asked with thinly veiled excitement that sounded too much like that of a fan.

“And Draco Malfoy,” another muttered, his face grimacing as he stared down at Draco. “And you’re−”

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione finished. “Listen, Ron attacked Draco. He needs to be arrested. I _had_ to cast a spell to stop him before he seriously hurt Draco. I knew Stupefying him would bring you here.”

The Aurors all looked around at each other with puzzled expressions. 

“Let’s just get you home, Ms Granger,” he said.

Hermione shook her head. “No, I’m not going anywhere until you arrest Ron and get Draco some medical care!” 

The Auror closest to her sighed. “Fine, fine; we’ll ask Weasley some questions, and in the meantime, we’ll have someone escort you and your _boyfriend_ to the hospital,” he said with a resentful edge to his voice.

Hermione paused, staring at him closely. She didn’t like his tone, and the way he had said ‘Malfoy’, as if it were something dirty. But her first priority was Draco. She quickly ran over to him. His face was cut in several places, and there was blood all over his shirt. 

“Oh, Draco,” she cried. 

Draco groaned. His eyes were turned down as if he were ashamed to look at her. 

“I’m coming with you to St. Mungo's,” she said, pushing his hair back from his forehead to wipe his sweaty brow.

Draco shook his head, holding his face. “No, I’m fine; I’ll go alone. Go home, Hermione,” he insisted.

“But—”

“Now, Hermione! Leave me,” he ordered.

A dull pang throbbed in her chest. “If you insist,” she said at last.

“I do,” he grimaced, struggling to stand. When she tried to help him, he snatched his arm away, balancing himself on the arm of the Auror standing closest to him instead. 

Hermione looked around, determined not to cry. “Well, you know where I’ll be,” she said softly.

Draco spat out a wad of blood onto the pavement just as the Auror gripped his arm in the same manner one usually does to prepare for a Side-Along Apparition. 

Hermione’s heart twisted to see Draco so badly beaten but it stung even more that his pride seemed more important than her company. A glimmer of hope returned when he lifted his eyes to look at her directly. 

“Draco—” she began.

“Whatever you do, don’t tell Father about this,” he said firmly.

“But—”

“Promise me you won’t say anything, Hermione,” he demanded.

“I—I promise,” Hermione said, feeling torn between comforting Draco and denying Lucius the truth she knew he’d want to know.

His eyes turned from hers quickly once more, and he gave the Auror a curt nod to indicate he was ready. In the next second they were both gone.

The other three Aurors stood around Hermione, staring at her in a strange silence. 

“Don’t worry, Ms Granger, we won’t bring up charges for your use of magic,” the one closest to her said. 

“I should think not,” she snapped, glaring at them. She stepped past them and into the cloud surrounding them.

“Hey!” one of them called, but Hermione ignored him as she searched the cobblestone. The crowd looked on curiously. Her eyes caught one little boy, about eight or nine, twirling her wand in his hand.

As Hermione approached, his mother put her hands on the boy’s shoulders, pulling him back. 

“Excuse me,” Hermione said softly. “But that’s mine.”

The boy gave her a suspicious once over. “This stick? I found it; it’s mine.”

Hermione’s patience was already very thin when she crouched down to give him a tight smile. “Then why does it do this when I reach for it?” 

She held out her hand and the boy’s eyes grew wide as the wand quivered and then flew into her hand. 

“Hey! How did you do that?” he asked. The boy’s mother looked quite alarmed and she closed her arms around her son protectively.

“Magic,” Hermione said as she stood up fully and walked back through the concealment cloud.

When she returned, the lead Auror looked absolutely furious. “You’re really pushing it! It’s going to be tough enough cleaning up here and explaining this mess.”

“Not my problem,” Hermione replied curtly. “I’ve done a civic duty here by alerting you to a crime. Ron Weasley has been harassing me, and now he’s attacked my boyfriend. Will you be arresting him?”

The Auror sighed, glancing at the others and waving Hermione off dismissively. “Listen, don’t worry about this; we’ll handle it from here. You can go on home now.”

Hermione looked down at Ron. She wanted to stay and see him detained—she didn’t trust these Aurors one bit. For all she knew, they were Cannons fans or perhaps they had some sort of grudge against the Malfoy family. 

But as she scanned to Ron’s frozen form on the pavement, her stomach began to turn. Hermione couldn’t believe that this man had once been her husband and her best friend. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to step on his face for what he had done to Draco. 

Instead, Hermione thought of the only refuge away from the chaos that was her life right now– Lucius. He was probably sitting by the hearth waiting for her, his couch plush and comfortable, his arms warm and strong. And they were always open for her. 

“Fine,” she said bitterly before Apparating to her home so she could take the Floo to Malfoy Manor.

~~~*~~~

When she arrived, she stepped out of the hearth, expecting to be greeted by either Lucius or Tizzy, but neither appeared. The living room was very quiet and still, giving the room a museum-like quality. If Tizzy hadn’t appeared instantly to greet her, perhaps the elf was attending to an important task or something was wrong. Hermione began to walk into the room, glancing about for signs of either one of them, but instead, she heard voices coming from the foyer.

She became very still, wanting to inch closer to see and hear what was going on, but understanding her presence in the Manor would not be seen as appropriate by an outside guest. Instead, she tiptoed to the edge of the room, just barely peeking out around the corner.

Lucius was standing in the foyer with his back turned to her. Tizzy was waiting slightly behind him, her side to Hermione, wringing her hands.

The elf glanced up and caught Hermione’s eye. Tizzy’s eyes widened but she put her finger up to her mouth to signal Hermione should remain quiet and in hiding. 

Hermione tried to keen her ear to hear but whoever was speaking to Lucius was talking in a low tone that was barely audible from the distance she was standing. Lucius didn’t appear to be speaking at all. She saw him nod his head, and then Tizzy was waving her hand wildly at Hermione to hide, which Hermione did so quickly. She heard the door open and a few more words exchanged and then it closed. 

“You’s all right, Master, Lucius?” she heard Tizzy say.

Lucius sighed loudly. “I suppose…”

“I’s make you your favourite dessert, that cheers you up!” Tizzy said excitedly. 

Hermione heard the elf’s familiar disappearing pop and then emerged from her spot behind the wall to peer at Lucius. He was standing with his side to her, staring at one of his paintings.

“Lucius?”

He appeared startled as he turned towards her. “Hermione, what are you doing here? How long have you been here?”

“I’ve only just arrived. Is everything all right?” She felt ridiculous asking, considering his son was laid up in hospital right now. If only she could tell him. It was very difficult to keep her face free from betraying her concern about Draco.

Lucius’ eyes shifted—he seemed to be contemplating something—and then nodded slowly. “Yes, everything is fine.”

“Who was that?”

Lucius began walking towards her, and she to him. He stopped before staring down at her, and then gave her a tight hug. She was caught off guard, but it felt wonderfully comforting, especially right now. It was exactly why she had come in the first place. Still, Lucius was not one for showing affection so openly. She pulled back, uneasily.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I appreciate what you said to Simon. He told me you spoke highly of me, in my defence the other day. Thank you,” he said, gratefully.

Hermione heart warmed at the softness in Lucius’ eyes. And then guilt returned as she thought of what she wasn’t telling him. As Draco’s father, Lucius had every right to know that his child was injured. But Draco’s words and his damning stare as he had made her promise not to tell were etched in her memory, repressing the confession. 

“I meant every word. Was that Simon?”

Lucius nodded. “Yes. The press seems to have an informant, someone from inside of the Ministry who can give them information about the upcoming election. It’s going to be more political than he thought.”

“He didn’t suggest that you withdraw from consideration?” Hermione asked anxiously.

Lucius smiled. “No, on the contrary; he came by to warn me about some of the tactics that may be used against me. He wanted me to know what I was up against. He really wants me to get that seat.”

Hermione exhaled, relieved to know that Simon was definitely on Lucius’ side. “And you will. Draco and I have started planning a strategy for you, both to secure votes and to minimise the damage of whatever political attack your opponent is planning.” 

Lucius smirked. “You really should have been Slytherin, my dear. I think it would have suited you better.”

Hermione put her chin up. “You don’t have to be Slytherin to be a strategist. We won’t use dirty tactics or cheat. We’ll beat them fair and square.”

Lucius chuckled. “And then we’ll make them suffer.”

Hermione sighed. “Oh, Lucius…”

For the next three hours, Lucius and Hermione pooled their best thinking. They discussed the latest gossip about Lucius, offensive approaches to securing votes and increasing favourable opinion of Lucius among both Board members and the general public.

Hermione was grateful Lucius seemed to be so engrossed with their strategic planning that he hadn’t asked or wondered out loud about Draco’s whereabouts. 

If it came to that, Hermione wasn’t sure if she could really lie to him, but she didn’t want to go back on her promise to Draco, either. Once again, her mind went to Draco and Ron. She wondered if Draco was doing all right, and if Ron had been detained. If only she could check. 

“Dinner?” Lucius repeated, watching her with concern.

“Pardon? Oh, yes, that would be lovely,” she said, trying to smile and push thoughts of Draco’s bloody and cut face out of her head. 

As they ate dinner, their conversation quickly moved from strategy to Hermione’s dinner with Harry. She revealed to Lucius that Christina was known to favour and play with blonds and that his elf alibi was regarded as weak and may not hold up for long.

“Well, I’ll just have to make up a better one,” Lucius said.

“We could just tell them the truth,” she offered.

Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“Not the obscene version, a much tamer one, of course. You, Draco, and I were here all night, discussing my relationship with Draco, and the importance of discretion. We could even say the conversation got heated. It’d be the absolute truth,” she said with a sly smirk. 

Lucius gazed at her curiously for several moments, sitting back. “Or, we could tell them the _real_ truth.”

Hermione frowned. “Lucius, Draco would be very displeased with the sort of press that revelation would create, and I hardly think it would help get you votes from the Board.”

Lucius nodded, his stare unwavering. “Just Draco? Or would you be embarrassed, as well?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m not embarrassed about our relationship. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

They stared at each other for a few more moments until finally, Lucius cracked a small smile. “First things first, get me elected. And then after that, I’ll do anything I bloody well want, any _way_ I want.”

Hermione huffed. “You’re not up for Minister of Magic, Lucius; you'll still have to behave reasonably, even as Head of the Board.”

“Reason is relative, my dear, and speaking of misbehaving, I don’t think I like your tone. I believe a spanking is in order,” he said, playfully. 

Hermione pouted. “Oh Daddy, no more; my bum still hurts from the last.”

Lucius burst into a hearty laugh. Hermione was startled to hear it, but very pleased she could elicit such a response. However, her guilt quickly returned as she thought of Draco. Here she was laughing it up with Lucius when Draco was in pain, and Lucius had no idea. 

Lucius seemed to sense the change in Hermione’s demeanour and frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, when Tizzy popped before them unexpectedly. 

“Master Lucius, I’s sorry to interrupt, but there is another visitor.”

Lucius frowned. “Who is it, Tizzy?”

“Harry Potter, Sir.”

Lucius and Hermione exchanged a puzzled glance and they both rose from the table to head to the door.

Sure enough, Harry was standing there, his face sombre as he glanced at Lucius before his eyes settled on Hermione.

“Harry, what are you doing here?”

Harry swallowed. “Hermione, it’s Ron. He’s been arrested.”

Hermione took a deep breath, her eyes darting to Lucius. “Well thank good−”

“For murder.”

Hermione’s heart felt like it had momentarily stopped and her mouth went dry. Draco couldn’t be dead. He had been breathing, speaking even, when she’d left him. Harry had to be talking about someone else.

Lucius spoke then. “Weasley killed someone? I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t either,” Harry said in a steely voice, glaring at Lucius. “Hermione, I need to get a statement from you. I’m giving this my full attention, now.”

Hermione tried to breathe normally. “Draco’s alive, isn’t he? He was alive when I left him. Ron was out of control but I stopped the fight in time...” she whispered, her mind still trying to process the news that Ron was being held for murder. He couldn’t have murdered anyone, at least not tonight. 

Lucius was staring at her like he didn’t recognise her. “What are you talking about? Weasley and Draco had an altercation? Where’s my son?” he demanded in a menacing tone.

Harry shook his head. “Draco’s fine. He’s down at the station, giving his statement. Ron’s girlfriend, Victoria, was found bound, gagged, and strangled in his bedroom.”

Relief that Draco was not dead and shock about Ron’s girlfriend collided. Hermione gasped. “What?”

Despite his authoritative insistence, Hermione could see Harry was crushed and struggling to hold himself together. He had the same lost expression that she recognized all too well from their seventh year. 

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Harry said. “But it looks like… it doesn’t look good for Ron. I need you to come down and give a statement.”

Hermione turned to Lucius, and immediately regretted it. His frown deepened as he set a contemptuous glare on her. Shame and guilt instantly washed over her again and she forced herself to look away and follow Harry down the Manor's front steps. 

It was going to be a very long night.


	14. A Fine Mess

At the Auror station, Hermione was directed to take a seat while Harry joined another Auror in a private room that she assumed was designated for questioning. 

As the minutes passed, Hermione began to fiddle with her skirt as a myriad of thoughts swirled inside her head: the anger and hurt in Lucius’ eyes from learning that she had withheld information from him; Draco’s badly injured face and his rejection of her assistance after the fight; and Harry’s wounded expression as he informed her that Ron had been arrested for murder. 

Murder! 

Whatever problems he was having, Hermione still couldn’t accept that Ron would do such a thing. It had to be a mistake. 

The chatter in the Auror’s station simmered as three shadows darkened the cloudy glass door of the questioning room. One shadow in particular caught Hermione’s attention. Tall, slender, with a pointy nose. She held her breath as the door opened. When Draco emerged their eyes immediately locked. Hermione thought she saw contrition flicker across his face, but then it was gone. The Auror behind Harry led Draco to another room, and Harry walked over towards her.

“We’re ready to take your statement now.”

Hermione took a deep breath as she rose. “All right."

Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile as he escorted her back.

Once inside the interrogation room, he and the other Auror proceeded to ask a litany of questions about the fight between Ron and Draco, Hermione’s communication with Ron since their divorce, and Ron’s behavior before and during the divorce. Their gentle and polite approach did nothing to alleviate her unease. She found some of their questions very intrusive. 

Still, she managed to give a detailed account of everything they wanted to know: how she had met with Ron after a series of hostile letters; the threats he had levied against her earlier that day; his altercation with Draco; and even their very sparse and decidedly non-kinky sex life before the divorce. 

“Well, that should about do it,” Harry said once they were finished. 

Hermione sighed in relief and glanced at the frantic quill scribbling the last of her words. Once it was done, it drifted towards her, floating right above her hand, silently prompting her to seize it. She hesitated, waiting for Harry to give her the written account of her statement. She read it over twice, but still couldn’t bring herself to grasp the quill. 

“What it is, Hermione?” Harry asked.

Hermione glanced up at Harry’s partner, prompting Harry to motion with his head for the man to leave. 

Once his partner was gone, Harry dragged his chair over to sit beside her. “OK, now you can speak freely.”

Hermione bit her lip, taking a moment to think before she spoke. She could hardly believe she was about to defend Ron, but she had to say what was on her mind. 

“Harry, something about this doesn’t make sense. I’ll be the first to admit Ron hasn’t been himself lately, but … I can’t believe he would or _could_ murder anyone.”

“I don’t either, Hermione, but we have to do a thorough investigation,” Harry said with resignation.

“What I said here will hurt his case, won’t it?”

“Well, it won’t help, but,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. “I’m in charge of this investigation, at least for now. I hope to Merlin they don’t pull me off of it just because we’re friends, but that’s very possible. Still, as long as I’m here, no stone will go uncovered. Ron will get a fair investigation.”

Hermione tried to smile but it felt false, so she stopped. 

Harry covered her hand reassuringly. “If you’re feeling guilty about what you told us— don’t. Even if Ron didn’t murder anyone, it’s obvious he’s become unhinged. Even the press has started to notice how easily he loses his temper lately. He needs help, Hermione, and this may be the only way he gets it.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, hating that it had to come to this. When she stood up, Harry pulled her into a firm embrace. “We’ll get through this.”

“Harry ...”

“What?”

“Is he … here?”

“Yeah, but we have him in temporary lock up. We have to do another round of interrogation soon, and then he’s off to Azkaban until we get more information. It’ll be awhile before he can get a hearing, so you won’t be seeing him any time soon if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Both sad and grateful to hear Ron was locked away, Hermione held onto Harry tightly for several moments before following him out of the room. She expected to be on her way, but there was someone in the lobby waiting for her. Draco had his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his cool grey eyes were measuring Harry speculatively. 

With a gentle hand on the shoulder, Harry drew Hermione’s attention back to him. “Perhaps I’ll see you sometime this week?” 

“Sure. How about tea and treacle tart sometime Tuesday evening?” she asked, genuinely pleased with idea of Harry coming over more regularly. 

Harry gave her a small smile. “Uh, actually, I was hoping for more lasagna. It was really good.”

Hermione chuckled. “Lasagna it is.”

“Great, see you then,” he said, turning to disappear into an adjacent office. 

With Harry gone, the Auror station felt much more public. And although no one was really paying any attention, Hermione wished that her first exchange with Draco since the altercation could take place somewhere more private. She took slow steps towards the lobby, wondering why he had decided to wait for her. 

As she approached, Draco offered her an easygoing smile that didn’t match the uneasiness in his eyes. “They kept you a lot longer than they kept me.”

“I had a lot more to say,” Hermione replied curtly.

Draco nodded. 

They stood in tense silence for a few moments before Hermione couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“I probably should be heading back now. Perhaps I’ll see you later,” she said, turning to board the lift. 

She grabbed hold of the overhead harness, but just as she was about to press the button, Draco made two quick strides to get on board as well. Hermione tried not to look at him as she pressed the button for the first floor. The door closed, and the lift retracted and dropped. Draco swiftly reached across to press the safety brake; the lift jolted to a stop, causing their bodies to collide. 

Hermione huffed in annoyance as the weight of Draco’s body pinned her against the wall. He was making no effort to move. 

When Draco didn’t respond, Hermione clicked her teeth and pushed at his chest to force space between them. But her strength was ineffective against his. His feet remained planted as he used the strength of his body to resist her shoving. 

He quickly placed his hands on either side of her head, locking her in place. Hermione stopped pushing and threw him an irritated scowl.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“If you would stop fighting me long enough, you’d see that I’m trying to apologise,” he explained. 

He leaned in to give Hermione a kiss, but she quickly turned her head, giving him a mouthful of her hair instead. Draco coughed and pulled back with a confused look on his face.

“Draco, if you think you can just stall the lift and snog everything away, you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “I said I’m sorry…”

“About what exactly?” 

“You’re really going to make this difficult, aren’t you?” Draco said in aggravation.

“Of course,” Hermione said. “It’s only fair.”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to be difficult before,” he said in frustration. “I just didn’t want you coddling me. It’s bad enough I was forced to be in that position. Having you fuss over me in front of everyone somehow made it worse.”

Hermione frowned.

“But, it is nice to know you were concerned about me,” he said, moving closer. 

“Of course I was concerned,” Hermione admitted, lifting a hand to his face. Draco winced but allowed her to caress his bruised cheek. It was very red, but the bruise surrounding his eye was much darker than before. His cut lip, on the other hand, was practically healed with only a slight line indicating an open wound used to be there. 

“It doesn’t look so bad,” she said awkwardly.

Draco scoffed. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“All right, I suppose,” he said. “What about you? You look rather put out.” 

Hermione sighed, as the full weight of the day hit her. “I suppose I am.” 

“I hope you’re not feeling bad about Weasley’s arrest. That’s the best news of the day.” 

Hermione’s eyes fell; she didn’t want to talk about Ron with Draco, especially right now.

Draco lifted her chin so that her eyes met his again. “Listen, I have a proposal … how about we go back to my flat, order in, make love, and then fall asleep until this day is completely behind us.”

Hermione swallowed. “That sounds lovely, but … I was planning to go back to the Manor. Your father will be expecting me … and you as well.” 

Draco frowned. “I’m really not in the mood to see him right now.” 

“But he’s worried.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Why would he be worried, Hermione?” 

She found it hard to look him in the eye but forced herself to anyway. “Because… he knows.”

Draco closed his eyes. “Damn it.” 

“I had no choice,” Hermione continued quickly. “When Harry showed up to tell us the news about Ron, there was no way around it.”

She waited in nervous anticipation for him to lash out at her. Instead, Draco’s face grew impassive as he dropped his hands and stepped back. 

“And what did he say?” Draco asked. “I’m sure he expressed his disappointment or disgust with me.”

Hermione shook her head vehemently. “No. He did nothing of the sort. He was concerned. Worried. I think he’s more upset with me because I didn’t tell him. You really should come back with me. He’d be relieved to see you.”

“No. Tell Father I’m fine, and… that I’ll be over later when I feel better.” 

“Draco,” she pleaded.

“Hermione, please, you don’t understand.” Draco pushed his hand through his hair in frustration. “I know my father. He has certain expectations. For me to have lost a fight to Weasley is one of the worst things I could have done. It’s like… like getting caught trying to steal something.”

“Now you’re exaggerating,” Hermione said.

“No, I’m not!” Draco said in exasperation. “You just don’t get it. I can guarantee you that as worried as Father may be, he would rather just hear a status report than see my face right now.” 

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Draco sighed with resignation, waiting for her to continue.

“I think you don’t know your father as well as you think you do,” Hermione said. “He’s changed a lot.”

“Perhaps in some ways, but in other ways, he hasn’t. Anyway, who are you to lecture me about my father? He’s _my_ father, and I’ve known him a lot longer than you!” Draco said irritably.

“That’s true,” Hermione conceded. “but I do know that he loves you very much and right now he’s very worried about you.” 

Draco considered her words for a few moments before reaching down to push the release button for the safety brakes. When they landed on the first floor, he gave her one final look as the gate opened. 

“Just tell him I’m fine, all right? I’ll see you at work Monday,” he said briskly as he exited.

“Right,” she whispered as she watched him walk away. 

Hermione wasn’t in any rush to go back to the Manor and face Lucius, so she took her time exiting the lift. When she finally stepped out, her eyes caught upon Ginny Weasley rounding the corner. Hermione froze, feeling trapped. She really didn’t know what to say to Ginny right now, considering all that was happening with her brother and between Harry and Cho.

But before Hermione could turn and walk in the other direction, Ginny spotted her, giving Hermione an enthusiastic wave as she sped up to meet her.

“Hermione!”

“Ginny … what a pleasant surprise,” Hermione said, trying to give her most cheerful smile as she opened her arms in greeting.

A look of relief broke across Ginny’s worried face as she accepted Hermione’s embrace. 

“How have you been?” Ginny asked when they pulled apart.

Hermione sighed. “It hasn’t been dull, I’ll tell you that.”

The smile on Ginny’s face faded. “I suppose you’ve heard about Ron?”

Hermione nodded soberly.

Ginny’s eyes became sharp and her lips pulled into a tight scowl. “It's complete rubbish.”

“I’m sure it’s a mistake,” Hermione reassured. “Harry said that he’s doing his best to get Ron cleared. I can’t imagine he’d ever do such a thing.”

Ginny’s face softened as she looked back at Hermione sympathetically. “Hermione … I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being there for you. Just because you and Ron are no longer married doesn’t mean you aren’t still family. You know that, right?”

Hermione nodded, even though she was genuinely surprised to hear Ginny refer to her as family. 

“Listen, I don’t really have time to talk now, I have to go see about Ron, but why don’t you owl me sometime. Or better yet, come by for visit. I’m sure Harry would love to see you as well. We’ve been so busy; we haven’t had time to really keep up with our friends. It’s sad, really.”

“That sounds good, I’ll do that,” Hermione said.

Ginny smiled. “See you soon then.”

“See you soon,” Hermione said, sighing in relief as Ginny moved past her to board the lift.

~~~*~~~

Hermione went home, fed Crookshanks and her owls, and then grabbed a bag of clothing and secured her home for an extended stay away. When she arrived back at the Manor, Lucius was pacing the parlor and talking to Tizzy. Upon Hermione’s appearance in the Floo, the house elf made a quick exit, mumbling something about fixing tea and crumb cake before popping out of sight.

Lucius stood staring at her in an imposing manner. The room suddenly felt much chillier than she remembered, and she was uncomfortably reminded of the man she had faced in the Ministry during her fifth year. 

His upper lip curled ever so slightly. “You lied to me.”

Hermione took in a breath and tried to evince confidence she did not feel. “Well, no, not exactly. I simply failed to mention –”

“Which is the same as lying!”

“I had no choice! Draco made me swear to it; he didn’t want you to know!”

When Lucius began walking towards her, his shoes clicking on the hard wood floor, Hermione braced herself for a confrontation. 

“Hermione, I have every right to know what is going on with _my_ son,” he said angrily. “You should never know more than I do about his well-being!”

Hermione nodded. “You’re right, Lucius, and I’m sorry. I never should have made that promise to Draco.” 

Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “Where is he? Did you see him?”

Hermione bit her lip. If Lucius was this upset now, the news that Draco did not want to come to the Manor would probably only make it worse. 

“Yes, I saw him at the Auror station. He’s at his flat now. And he told me to tell you that he will discuss this matter with you at a later time.” 

“What does _that_ mean?” Lucius demanded. “Why is he avoiding me?” 

“Lucius, I do not think that I am in any position to speak on Draco’s behalf,” Hermione said carefully.

“Oh, but you already have,” Lucius said in a dangerous, low voice as he drew closer. 

Hermione had to tell herself to stand her ground and not take a step back. The iciness in Lucius’ voice was frightening, and she almost wished he would yell at her instead. 

He stopped a few inches in front of her, his eyes boring into hers. “Now, you will tell me everything you know about what’s going on with Draco or you will not set foot inside of my home again.”

Hermione stared at him, stunned.

“Lucius, I already explained that Draco will talk to you when he’s ready. In the meantime, I think I should go home. Perhaps that is where I really belong.” 

She turned her back to him, quickly making for the hearth where she grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and stepped inside, staring right into his eyes as she cast the powder to transport her back home.

~~~*~~~

Lucius stood rooted to the same spot, gazing at the hearth where Hermione had made her exit. His anger with her and Draco for concealing the Weasley altercation warred with his regret for trying to coerce her for more information about his son. Giving ultimatums and using fear tactics had always worked in his favour, but in his anger and zeal, he had forgotten whom he was dealing with.

It was evident that Draco had put Hermione in a difficult position, but instead of waiting to address the matter with Draco, Lucius had taken it out on Hermione. 

Just the idea of Draco fighting Ronald Weasley and having to seek medical attention as a result made Lucius' blood boil. He wanted to hex Weasley himself, and he had a strong feeling Draco was avoiding him to escape any further humiliation. More than anything, it saddened him that Draco still feared his disapproval. He thought he and his son had grown much closer over the past few months; evidently, he had overestimated their progress.

Tizzy tugged on his sleeve, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Master Lucius …”

“Yes?”

“Master Draco jus’ sent an owl. He sez he’d like ta speak wit you once Mistress Hermione’s gone.”

“You may tell Draco that Hermione has left; he can come now if he likes.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Tizzy said, popping out of sight.

~~~*~~~

Hermione promptly warded her hearth once she arrived home. She was so angry her hands were shaking, and contrary to her normal routine of peeling off her clothing in an orderly fashion, she began stripping as she made her way upstairs, letting her clothing fall to the floor along the way.

After drawing a hot bath, she poured in her favorite bath oil, said a quick ‘Nox’ to extinguish the lights, and slid into the water. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the basin, hoping to clear her head and calm her nerves. But it was impossible to block out her last exchange with Lucius. Had he really thought he could use threats to twist a confession out of her? 

It baffled and frightened Hermione how quickly Lucius could go from being a warm and playful lover to someone who could make the hairs stand on the back of her neck. Would it always be this way with him when he and Draco couldn’t communicate? She wasn’t sure, and that bothered her. But what disturbed Hermione the most was that, surprisingly, she didn’t think Lucius was the real problem here. In fact, she almost sympathised with his behaviour in light of what had occurred. 

This was about Draco. 

Draco and his pride. Draco and his resentment. Draco and the underlying tension that still existed between him and his father. It had caused more than a few arguments in their short time together. 

Hermione stared up at the ceiling as doubt began to cloud her thoughts. Just what kind of future did they really have together? The thought of breaking it off with either one of them hurt too much to dwell on, but _something_ needed to change, and she was convinced had to begin with Draco, or it wouldn’t work.

~~~*~~~

When Draco got word that Hermione was not at the Manor, he groaned and buried his face in his pillow. He had been counting on her staying for the night, thereby allowing him to put off any difficult conversations with his father until the next day or even the day after.

He really didn’t want to do this tonight, but he already felt like a loser, and since he didn’t want to look like a coward as well, he Floo’d to the Manor immediately.

When he arrived, his father was sitting on the couch near the hearth, drinking what appeared to be an aged brandy. Draco stepped out of the hearth and stood silently before him, waiting for Lucius to interrogate him or launch into a diatribe about the family name and his disappointment. But Lucius said nothing for several moments. Just when the strange silence threatened to force Draco to speak, Lucius set a gentle grey stare on his son.

“Draco …”

“Father …”

“Would you like a drink?”

Draco blinked in confusion. His father’s casual demeanor and offer of a drink was unexpected. He released a breath, finally. He had been holding his body stiff the entire time, without realising it. 

“Yes, I would. Scotch, if you don’t mind.” 

He waited for his father to call for Tizzy, but Lucius stood up and made his way over to the sideboard to fix Draco the drink himself. Draco watched him in cautious silence. This was unfamiliar territory. The man had always been predictable, especially when expressing his disappointment, but so far, Lucius had veered from all the former patterns Draco had grown accustomed to.

“Did I ever tell you of the first and only time I received detention at Hogwarts?” Lucius asked as he began to pour the drink.

Draco wrinkled his brow. It was still hard for him to imagine his father attending Hogwarts. He knew Lucius had been an excellent student and a prefect, but that was all. 

“No, you’ve never mentioned it.” 

“Have a seat,” Lucius said, handing him the scotch. 

Draco nodded, accepting his drink and taking a seat on the couch. His father sat down on the opposite end, pausing to take another swig before speaking. 

“As you know, I was a prefect, and a damned good one too. I was regarded as an exemplary student. I never earned a bad mark, all O’s, and I never served a single detention until sixth year. That year, I received a week's worth.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

“For your mother.”

Draco looked at his father in surprise. 

“I probably don’t need to tell you that she was quite the catch,” Lucius continued. “She was very popular. Her beauty was indisputable, and she was a very nice person. And even though she and I were in a well-established relationship, other young men were never fully deterred from expressing their interest in her. 

“Well, one day, this … vile boy named Charles Quinn said something disgusting about your mother’s anatomy, and I … I had had quite enough of hearing such things. It was a matter of honour and respect.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “Of course. So you hexed him?”

“No,” Lucius said with a long sigh. “I punched him.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t even imagine …

“I know it’s difficult to imagine _me_ using such primitive and brutish means to settle a dispute, but I thought it was the only way I could make myself clear to such common riff raff.” 

“What happened?” Draco asked, greatly intrigued. 

“As it turned out, Quinn’s father was a Muggle boxer and since I had never fought with my hands, the circumstances weren't in my favour.”

Draco let out a short dry laugh. “Oh no! That’s rotten luck.”

Lucius smirked, nodding. “Yes. It earned me a black eye, a broken wand, and a detention. Not to mention your grandfather refused to speak to me for nearly a month. But, in the end, I only received a week of detention, and I still had your mother."

Draco smiled at his father, genuinely surprised and touched by Lucius’ admission. 

“But,” Lucius continued with some gravity in his tone, “I was quite young and brash when that occurred, a simple schoolboy. When I left Hogwarts, I quickly matured. I learned that there are much more sophisticated and effective ways to deal with that sort of trash. We must always remember, Draco, that no matter how hard our inferiors try, and believe me – they will, we can never lower ourselves to their level.”

“I understand, Father,” Draco replied before discreetly exhaling. 

It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His father wasn’t going to berate him or scold him. He wasn’t even going to interrogate him. Draco stared back at the man he had misjudged. There was so much he wanted to apologise for: for not informing his father that he was in the hospital; for thinking the worst of his father and making Hermione lie; and for losing a fight to a Weasley. But somehow, none of that seemed to matter anymore.

They both sat in silence for several moments, as Draco reflected on his relationship with his father and how far they had come, and how far they had yet to go. 

“Did you at least get in a few good punches?” Lucius asked quietly.

As Draco thought about the fight and how he had sent Ron barreling back against the glass pane of the shop, he cracked a smile. “Yes, more than a few.” 

“Good,” Lucius drawled. “Perhaps one day you can finish it properly.”

Draco nodded and raised his glass. Lucius raised his as well, tapping Draco’s as they made a silent toast.

~~~*~~~

When Hermione emerged from her bath, the thought of owling Cho briefly crossed her mind, but after considering how much of what had happened was related to Ron and his criminal case, she thought better of it. Besides, she was completely drained and wanted nothing more than a hot cup of cocoa and to curl up with a book and read until she fell asleep.

She did exactly that, dozing off quickly, but waking not long after upon hearing a rap at her window. Startled, she reached for her wand and tip-toed out of bed to have a look. 

Wide grey eyes shone through the glass, and she almost dropped her wand in shock. Draco was floating outside her window on his broom, and he looked quite silly trying to balance himself with flowers in one hand while keeping the other on the handle. 

Hermione sniggered and opened her window. “What on earth are you doing?”

“What do you think? You know good well you closed your Floo, and apparently you have new wards because I couldn’t Apparate inside your home.”

“Too right,” she grinned. 

“Well, are you going to invite me in or will you have me floating up here all night like an idiot.”

“It’s quite fitting.”

Draco grumbled and flew parallel to her window. He handed her the flowers, which she took and placed on her bed while he dismounted and worked his way through her window. When he was finally inside, he looked thoroughly disheveled, and Hermione had to laugh. 

Draco invited more of it by waving her on with both hands. “Yes, yes, go ahead, laugh it up. Just remember, after tonight, you can’t ever say I don’t make a bloody effort.”

“So you think flying over in the middle of the night to bring me flowers will earn my forgiveness and a place in my bed?”

“I’ve used much less before,” he teased.

Hermione scowled, which made Draco chuckle. As hard as she tried, his smile was too endearing, and she gave up her show at being mad, returning to her bed instead. Draco watched as she placed the flowers on her nightstand and slid under the sheets. When he didn’t make move to join her, she patted the empty space beside her. He kept his eyes on her as he slowly removed his clothing, save for his boxers, then climbed underneath the covers to lie next to her. 

They lay on their sides facing each other for several moments, and when Hermione’s eyelids became heavy, Draco snuggled up closer but just shy of touching her. As Hermione drifted to sleep, his voice brought her back. 

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes to stare into his, unsure about how to answer that question. “Honestly, I don’t know what to feel.” 

Draco considered her silently for a few moments. “Father told me you and he had an argument.”

“We didn’t have an argument; he made a ridiculous ultimatum and I left.”

“Well, he feels terrible about it. He wants to apologise.”

“I’m sure he does,” Hermione replied wearily.

“But … I feel like it’s my fault really,” Draco said softly.

Hermione opened her eyes fully to see him clearly. Her first inclination was to assure him it wasn’t fault, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. 

“You’re right. It is,” she said simply. 

Draco took a visible breath and brought his knees up slightly as if he meant to fold into himself, but he stopped, keeping his eyes on her as he bit the next words out. “Hermione, I’m … sort of fucked up.” 

Hermione didn’t reply, but she could see this was hard for him.

“I have issues with my father.”

“I know, Draco. We’ve already discussed this.”

“I know we have, but I really didn’t realise how serious it was until today,” he admitted.

“I see … Well, I don’t know what to say. I want to help you, but…”

“But I’m the only one who can really fix it,” Draco finished.

Hermione nodded.

“I know,” Draco sighed. “And I’m going to try. Father and I had a really good chat today, and we’re going to work through it.”

Encouraged, Hermione gave him a small smile. “I’m really glad to hear that because I love you both, and I don’t want to think about choosing or breaking it off because of your … issues with him.”

“You won’t have to. I promise I’ll do my best to make sure you’re never in that position.”

She suddenly had a strong urge to embrace him, to thank him for being honest with her and himself and for just being there. She scooted closer until their noses were almost touching. 

“Now, let’s discuss what’s bothering you,” he said with a meaningful look. 

“What do you mean?”

“Hermione, it’s written all over your face. You’re sad, and I think I know why.”

Hermione looked back at him curiously. “Why?”

“You still care for Weasley, don’t you?”

Suddenly feeling defensive, Hermione pursed her lips. “Not in the way you think.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you still care about him. That’s why you agreed to meet him even though he’s been harassing you.”

“Draco, you don’t understand…” 

“You’re right about that — I don’t. I bet you even think he didn’t murder his girlfriend."

“He didn’t!” Hermione protested. She was ready to list a myriad of reasons to support her position when Draco disarmed her with a simple smile. 

“Think this is funny?”

Draco sighed. “No, I think you’re a hopeless optimist with a kind heart. You’re probably the nicest person I know. And believe me, that’s not a compliment.”

“It’s not a matter of being nice, it’s a matter of—”

Hermione was cut off in mid-sentence by Draco’s mouth covering hers. Hermione sighed in approval as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer against him. She could feel all of her anxiety and tension leaving her as their kiss deepened. When Draco finally broke the kiss, her mind was almost completely clear. 

“How do you feel now?”

“Hmm, the same,” she said with a cheeky smile. 

Draco groaned and his face turned quite somber. Hermione stiffened, ready for him to launch into a tantrum. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but … go on …”

She wrinkled her brow. “Go on what?”

“Go on, and get it out of your system.”

“Get what out of my system?”

Draco huffed. “This thing with you and Weasley … tell me what happened between you two.”

Hermione gaped back at Draco in surprise. Was he really inviting her to talk about her marriage and divorce to Ron? 

“Are you sure you want to hear this? It's perfectly understandable if you don’t. I mean, you just fought him.”

“I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to discuss him, but we’re together, and if you can’t talk to me about it, then what are we doing?”

Hermione wanted to kiss him again right then and there. She was about to tell him everything but then a troubling thought stopped her. “Draco, if I discuss my relationship with Ron, you have to promise to refrain from making disparaging remarks. It would make me very uncomfortable.” 

Draco frowned. “You’re really asking a lot here. I’ll do my best, Hermione, but I’m only human.”

Hermione gave him a small smile and adjusted her head on the pillow. After a few moments of hesitation, she opened up about everything that had occurred between her and Ron.

Draco listened intently, sometimes making faces, sometimes swearing, but he honoured her request and held his tongue through most of it. When she was done, Draco reached up to smooth her hair back and cupped her cheek tenderly. 

“I’m sorry.”

Hermione covered his hand with her own. “Don’t be. Everything happens for a reason. It’s over now, and really, I think it was for the best. I have you and Lucius and it doesn’t get any better than that. But thank you for listening. I know that was hard for you.”

Draco shrugged. “It was easier than I thought it’d be. Now I am even more certain that you two were completely wrong for each other. Do you feel a little better now?”

Hermione nodded. “A little …”

“Just a little? Then my work here isn’t done yet,” he said, a devious smile growing on his face. He wagged his eyebrows and ducked underneath the covers before Hermione could question him.

“Draco! What are you … oh!”

Suddenly strong hands were pushing up her nightgown, and Hermione sat up and gasped as a hot, wet mouth descended on her clit. When he gripped her thighs and spread her wide, making room for himself to settle in for what she hoped was a long session of pleasure, Hermione fell back onto her pillow and closed her eyes. 

“Hmm, yes … just like that, Draco. You were right; I’m feeling better already.”


	15. Making Up Is Hard To Do

Waking up from the serenity of a peaceful sleep, Hermione slowly opened her eyes to find a slender pale arm draped protectively over her naked body. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she thought of the past two nights she'd spent making up with Draco. She nestled back against him, sighing in contentment. When he grunted and pulled her tighter into the shelter of his body, she closed her eyes again, ready to sleep the entire day with him wrapped around her. 

Then realisation hit her like a splash of cold water in the face: It was Monday morning!

“Oh no!” she cried, pushing away Draco’s arm to scramble over him and climb out the bed.

He cracked an eye open and yawned. “What’s the matter?”

“We’re late! Or at least, we will be. It’s nearly 8am!”

Draco mumbled a curse, pulling the duvet over his head.

Hermione ran to the bathroom to wash up and tame her hair. When she returned, Draco walked past her to do the same. 

Making a mental list of everything she needed to do, Hermione tried to calm herself as she sat on the bed to roll up her stockings. 

“Mmm, what a lovely sight,” Draco said from the frame of the bedroom door. 

He was practically starkers save for the towel around his waist, and still visibly wet in places. 

“Oh, stop that!” Hermione scolded. “We have to get dressed—fast!”

“All right, all right,” Draco said, pulling off his towel and drying off as he crossed in front of her.

Hermione’s eyes were drawn to his perfect arse as he made his way over to the bed where his cloak lay. She even tilted her head as he bent down to pick it up. 

“Now who’s staring?” he said, peeking over his shoulder before retrieving an entirely different set of clothes from his cloak pocket.

“This is terrible,” she lamented as she adjusted her skirt. “We’ll have to stagger our entrance through the Floo so that it doesn’t look like we’re arriving together.”

Draco stopped dressing to stare at her. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What? No! But if we arrive together it’ll be just like announcing we’re sleeping together!”

“We _are_ sleeping together,” Draco said in aggravation.

Hermione huffed. “I know that, but we don’t need to broadcast it! We fuel enough gossip as it is. Arriving together will only bring about more. Besides, I hate all of the attention. I don’t want to give those bints any more to talk about.”

“Get used to it, Hermione,” Draco said wearily. “You’re seeing _me_ now, and that means you’re going to get attention. There will be lots of disapproving glares, jealous women, and endless gossip. Honestly, I thought you’d be over this sort of thing—your ex-husband is a Quidditch star and your best mate is the golden boy himself for Merlin’s sake.” 

“I’ll never get used to it,” she muttered as she slipped on her robes. After straightening them out, she turned around to present herself. 

“All right, I’m ready.” 

Draco smiled in approval as he looked her over. He was already dressed as well and looked quite dashing for someone who had spent less than five minutes getting ready. 

“Yes, you definitely are, and so am I,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They took the Floo together, and despite Draco’s reassurances, a knot had formed in Hermione’s stomach by the time they stepped out into the Ministry’s main throughway. It was crowded as usual, with people hurrying along to their respective destinations, but that didn’t deter curious eyes and whispers. Hermione rolled her eyes, trying not to look back at the onlookers. 

But Draco seemed to revel in it, making a point to give Hermione a sensual, prolonged kiss and whispering a seductive ‘see you later’ before parting. Hermione shook her head at his exhibitionism and turned to make haste towards her office. 

She was only a hundred metres from the lift when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Irritated, she turned around, prepared to give a dismissive “let’s talk later", but a large-brimmed hat rendered her speechless as it came an inch from nearly blinding her. It concealed most of the person’s distinguishing features, forcing Hermione to take a step back to see who was under it. Her irritation soon turned into anger. Dressed in simple black robes and hidden under the shield of her head garb, Rita Skeeter had managed to sneak up on Hermione. 

“Why hello, Ms Granger, we meet again,” Skeeter said as if they were meeting by chance. 

“I don’t have time, Skeeter. I’m late,” Hermione said, turning her back on the woman and making quick strides to get to the lift. 

Skeeter didn’t miss a beat, keeping in step as she struggled to keep pace with Hermione. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the woman’s quill already fast at work. 

“Honestly, don’t you have any sense of decency?” Hermione asked, nearly out of breath from the pace she had set. “This is a place of employment. I can’t believe you’re even allowed in here.”

“It is a public building, Ms Granger. And you should know I have unlimited access. My reputation is undisputed, yours on the other hand …”

Curiosity and indignation stopped Hermione in her tracks. She turned around abruptly to Skeeter’s apparent delight. 

“What about my reputation?” Hermione demanded. 

Skeeter giggled. “I was just about to say that your reputation as a war heroine and champion of animal rights is unparalleled.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, waiting for the punch line. 

“However,” Skeeter purred in a voice that promised salacious conjecture, “some are questioning your … how I shall I put it … personal interests.”

The gauntlet had been thrown, but Hermione didn’t respond immediately. She knew the game Skeeter was playing, and despite her inclination not to indulge the vulture, there was something about the woman’s smug, knowing smile that set Hermione's nerves on end. She had to find out what kind of rubbish Skeeter was planning to write. 

“What do you mean?”

Skeeter’s eyes twinkled as she drew close, like one about to divulge a naughty secret. Inwardly, Hermione cringed.

“Well, as you know, your ex-husband has been arrested for a kinky sex murder, and your boyfriend’s father is rumoured to host kinky sex parties. Some even say he may be a suspect in the Van Buron murder. One can’t help but wonder what kind of interests you have in such things."

“I assure you, I have no interest in murder,” Hermione replied. 

“I was referring to kinky sex, dear. What is your stance on ‘the lifestyle,’ as some call it?” Skeeter asked with a predatory look in her eye. 

Hermione bit her tongue for fear of giving the woman a good tongue-lashing. That would only make Skeeter too happy and provide her ample ammunition to fuel her gossip column. 

Taking a discreet breath, Hermione kept her voice even as she spoke, “Well, I hate to disappoint you, Skeeter, but you and your readers will soon discover that my ex-husband is innocent of those charges. And I must say, it’s disappointing to learn that a reputable publication such as _The Daily Prophet_ would make such a bold accusation against an upstanding member of the board of directors based on unfounded gossip. It’s very unprofessional, but judging from your recent work, not terribly surprising. I will say this though …” 

Skeeter leaned in like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. 

“Anyone who is that interested in my sex life should take a long hard look at what’s missing from their own. Good day.”

Turning on her heel to board the lift, Hermione gave a Skeeter satisfied smile as she shut the gate, but once the lift ascended, she breathed a sigh of relief. Although Hermione knew Skeeter would take revenge in her next column, she no longer cared. Hopefully that would be the last she saw of the woman for long time.

As she made her way back to her office, Hermione began to notice people openly gawking at her. She tried to play it cool and force a smile, but it proved quite difficult when she wanted to snarl instead. She stopped suddenly when a stout balding man with fancy robes came into view. Simon Witherspoon, the Deputy Director of the Ministry, was standing just inside the door of her office waiting for her, and to Hermione’s horror, she was at least ten minutes late.

“Simon! Good morning. I’m so sorry for my tardiness,” she said quickly, rushing in and closing the door behind her.

The portly man gave Hermione a good-natured smile and waved off her apology. “Oh, it’s all right, Hermione. You don’t need to punch the clock with me. Besides, I imagine your life is a bit more hectic than it was the last time we spoke, and that’s really saying something.”

Hermione sighed and nodded. “It’s becoming a nightmare.”

“Yes, actually, that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about. Shall we have a seat?” he suggested as if she was visiting his office.

Hermione's pulse quickened as she made her way to her desk. This couldn’t be good.

“So, what brings you here?” she asked anxiously. 

A strained smiled crossed Simon’s face. “Well, Hermione, as you know, starting today the board is accepting official nominations from upper management and board members for the Head of the Board of Directors. The nomination period will end next Friday, and following week there will be an open meeting where the candidates will be invited to present their vision for the Board and the Ministry.” 

Hermione nodded impatiently; she knew all of this. Simon seemed to be taking forever to get to his point.

“I don’t need to tell you that this will be a very unusual and closely watched election. There’s already been controversy, considering the two most-favoured candidates have former ties to You-Know-Who. And with rumours of Lucius Malfoy being a possible suspect in the recent murder of Christina Van Buron, there has even been some debate about whether the Ministry should suspend the elections until … more suitable candidates emerge.”

Panic struck Hermione. “Oh no, people really think Lucius, ah, I mean Mr Malfoy is a suspect in the Van Buron murder?”

“Well, perhaps not as much since the arrest of Weasley,” Simon replied. 

“Oh,” Hermione said, not sure how to feel about that. 

“Don’t worry, they won’t suspend the elections,” Simon reassured. “That was just talk. Too many people are ready for a change, and both candidates have very influential supporters.”

Just when Hermione began to relax, Simon looked down at his lap.

“But … that sort of talk does affect other matters of Ministry business.” 

“Like what?” Hermione asked nervously, already sensing where he was going with this.

“Hermione, I’m sorry to tell you this, but in light of the elections, the Minister feels that it would be inappropriate to promote anyone at this time. So until things cool down, your promotion is on hold.”

“I see,” Hermione said numbly. “And Draco’s as well?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Simon replied.

“Simon, I have to ask … is this _just_ about the elections?”

Shifting in his seat, Simon rubbed his forehead anxiously. “To be perfectly honest— no. The recent arrest of your ex-husband and the rumours about your harassment and his altercation with Draco are generating a level of press we really can’t afford to court. The Minister feels that promoting both you and Draco at this time will draw even more unnecessary attention and send a message that we condone such behaviour.”

“But we didn’t do anything wrong!” Hermione protested. “Ron is the one being held.”

“Yes, but I don’t have to tell you that Mr Weasley’s status as a war hero and Quidditch star has earned him many fans, some in very prominent positions. And there is a very vocal minority who thinks that you and Draco unnecessarily provoked Mr Weasley, making the situation much worse.”

Red flashed before Hermione’s eyes, and she'd opened her mouth to retort when Simon held up a hand. 

“Please, before you say anything, let me make something perfectly clear: neither the Minister nor I believe any of that, and it certainly doesn’t figure into whether you would get promoted or not.”

“Well then why are you putting out promotions on hold?” Hermione asked, hating the whiny tone in her voice.

“Because we are a public agency that represents the wizarding community, and we have to be mindful of how the public views us.” 

Hermione’s heart sank like a rock. “That’s ridiculous. It’s all based on speculation, celebrity, and lies.” 

Simon sighed. “I know, but it’s become its own monster.” 

“And what about Mr Malfoy?” she asked. “How will all of this affect him?”

“It’s not entirely clear yet,” Simon admitted. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.” 

Hermione clasped her hands together; looking past Simon, her thoughts focused on Lucius.

“Hermione, I don’t want you fretting over this. It’s just a temporary delay and not indefinite. We need you in leadership, badly. You will be promoted, just not today.” 

“Or tomorrow,” Hermione murmured. When she glanced up, she saw that Simon was wearing a guilty expression. Hermione tried to give the man a grateful smile to make him feel better. “Well, I appreciate your candour, Simon. Thanks for telling me.” 

“Of course,” Simon said, standing up slowly. “Now, I have to go tell Draco the same. I suspect he won’t be quite as understanding.” 

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. “Good luck with that.”

Once Simon was gone, Hermione turned her chair around to face the window. Staring into the glass, which was charmed to look like a summer’s sky, Hermione felt a sense of despair pulling her down. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. It would be easy to blame Ron for all of this, but it was much more complicated than that. 

She tried picking up a brief to review but found herself thinking about the elections again, and Lucius. Simon was right. An electoral race between two former Voldemort sympathisers was sure to bring out the sort of scandal that would make Skeeter’s mouth water. All this time, she and Lucius had been strategising how to beat Thicknesse, but it was the press and the public they should have been thinking about. 

Suddenly, she wondered what Harry would say about all of this and if perhaps he’d consider throwing his support behind Lucius. It was a long shot, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

A tapping at her door interrupted her thoughts. “Yes?”

It was Abbey wearing her usual overeager grin. “Hello, Hermione!”

“Abbey, good morning. I’m so sorry, but I really don’t have time to chat; I’m extremely busy.”

“Oh, I understand. I just wanted to tell you that an owl just arrived for you.”

“Well, just put it in my mailbox.”

“I think you will want to open this one right away,” Abbey said excitedly.

Hermione wrinkled her brow as Abbey handed her a small silver envelope and then stood by Hermione’s desk, waiting. 

“Thank you, Abbey,” Hermione said with a dismissive tone. 

The woman’s smile faltered. “Oh, right, I suppose I’ll just get back to work.”

Hermione held in a snort and waited until the door closed again to open the letter. 

 

_Hermione,_

_I hope this note finds you well. I deeply regret our last conversation, and would like a chance to discuss the matter. If you are available, please consider dining with me tonight. If that’s asking too much, I would like for you to at least pay me a visit. I hope you will consider it. Until then, take care._

 

There was no signature, but it didn’t need one. Hermione knew who had sent it.

So Lucius wanted to apologise. Draco had already told her he desired to, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it. Lucius’ behaviour had been unacceptable, and she couldn’t allow him to think he could pull that with her ever again. But how long to punish him?

As she recalled Simon’s warning about the upcoming election, she knew now more than ever that Lucius needed an ally. 

Resentment and dedication warred as she considered how to respond to the invitation. She sighed and folded the letter. It would take a lot of grovelling before she forgave him. 

Hermione frowned as she tried picturing Lucius grovelling. Was that even possible?

There was only one way to find out.

Not trusting her co-workers, she wrote a reply and made her way up to the Owlery.

~~~*~~~

When Hermione left work, Draco was on her mind. He had sent her a note right before lunch stating he was swamped with work and that he’d catch up with her later. She wondered how much of that was true and how much of it was Draco’s wounded pride from having learned that rumours about his altercation with Weasley had affected both his and Hermione’s promotions.

She went home, fed Crookshanks and her owls, changed clothes, and travelled to the Manor by Floo.

Lucius was sitting on the couch with a drink in his hand when she arrived. He promptly rose to make his way to the hearth, extending his free hand to assist her. 

“I’m very glad you came,” he said in an unusually gracious voice. Hermione pretended not to be surprised as he gave the back of her hand a soft kiss. When he straightened, there was a small smile on his face. 

Determined to stick to her plan, Hermione only offered Lucius a slight head bow in return. 

The atmosphere chilled instantly. Lucius’ smile disappeared, and he raised his chin. But his stiff upper lip and dignified stance did nothing to conceal the uneasiness in his eyes. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said in a much more formal tone than he had used to greet her.

Hermione slowly walked over to the couch where she had made herself comfortable several times in the past. Tonight, however, she sat on the edge, visibly tense.

“Would you like a drink?” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she replied curtly. 

Lucius gave a slight head nod and took a seat beside her, his posture poised and stiff. 

There were several moments of silence. Too many. 

Hermione kept her eyes on Lucius. He was staring at the hearth as if waiting for someone else to enter. 

“Lucius?” 

“Hmm?” he replied as if she had interrupted a thought.

“You said you had something to say to me?” she asked impatiently.

“Ah, yes,” Lucius said as if he had forgotten why he had summoned her. “Well ... since we last met, I have given your dishonesty very serious consideration, and I am willing to forgive you if you promise it will never happen again.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open as she gaped at him in incredulity. “ _That’s_ what you brought me here to say?”

Finally he turned to look at her. “What did you expect me to say? What happened wasn’t my fault.” 

“And it certainly wasn’t mine!” Hermione snapped as she stood up.

“Oh, come now, Hermione; you can’t claim to be completely innocent,” Lucius defended, though his eyes were set on something past Hermione and not on her.

Hermione scowled, about to launch into a tirade, but then decided it wasn’t worth her energy or time and turned towards the hearth. 

“Running off again? Pardon me, but I mistook you for grown woman, not a petulant little girl.”

“You’re calling _me_ a child?” She turned around, fuming. “Lucius, you can’t even look me in the eye and give me a proper apology!”

Rising to the challenge, Lucius’ stare shifted to Hermione. “How can you possibly expect for me to apologise for something _you_ instigated?”

“If that’s what you really believe, Lucius, then we have nothing to discuss,” Hermione said, turning to grab a fistful of Floo powder. 

“Wait,” Lucius said with a reluctant groan.

Hermione turned slowly, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

For a few moments, there was only silence. Hermione watched Lucius’ lips move as if he were debating his next words. Finally, he stood up and walked over to her. 

“I’m not very good with apologies,” he said softly. 

“But?”

Lucius took a breath. “But … I shouldn’t have made an ultimatum. Especially such an extreme one. It really wasn’t your fault that Draco requested for you to conceal the incident.” 

“Thank you!” Hermione exclaimed, relieved he had come to his senses. 

“However,” Lucius continued pointedly. “You must understand that as much as you are Draco’s lover, you are mine as well. And as such, I expect you to consider my interests and feelings equally.”

Guilt resurfaced as Hermione thought of how she had pretended everything was fine while in Lucius’ company, when all the while she had been worried about Draco’s health. It was enough to dissolve her defensive wall and make her take a step closer. 

“Lucius, I don’t want you to ever think that Draco’s wishes are more important than yours. I did what I thought would be helpful in the moment. I see now that it was unfair, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. I value your trust very much, and I don’t want to lose it.” 

There was no smile or nod, but Lucius' jaw slackened as he quietly said 'thank you.” 

Awkward silence ensued as they stood before one another, each unsure of what to say or do next. Finally, Lucius swallowed and spoke. “Would you like to stay?”

“I suppose,” Hermione said hesitantly, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. 

“What is it?” Lucius asked.

“Well … to be honest, this did not go quite the way I thought it would,” she admitted.

Lucius looked perplexed. “What were you expecting?”

Feeling somewhat silly but frustrated nonetheless, Hermione shrugged. 

“Surely you didn’t think I would get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness,” Lucius said with laughter in his words.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “No, not exactly, but something close would have been nice.”

Lucius scoffed. “You should know me better by now, witch. Besides, I’m not the only one at fault here …”

“Yes, but would it hurt for you to be a little more contrite, Lucius? You hurt my feelings as well.”

Lucius clicked his teeth and pouted. Wrapping his arms around Hermione, he pulled her close. “I know, and I am so sorry,” he said in a voice that sounded more patronising than sincere. “Perhaps we can find a way to make it up to each other.”

Still unsettled, Hermione didn’t reply. Damned Lucius! Was he always this smooth? 

Her inner voice told her she could still make it hard for him, but as Hermione rested her head against his firm chest, inhaling his intoxicating masculine scent, all of her rationalisations for dragging the matter out evaporated. 

She closed her eyes, thinking of the possibilities. They were tempting, to say the least. 

“So, you want to make it up to me, hmm?”

“Yes,” he said.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Whatever you deem appropriate. It’s up to you,” he said simply. 

Hermione pulled back and stared up at Lucius in disbelief. “You’re allowing me to choose your penance?”

“Yes … with the understanding that I get to do the same,” he said with an unreadable expression.

Hermione studied his face, looking for any signs of trickery. Something wasn’t right about this.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, his eyes reflecting concern.

“Yes, I do,” she said slowly, not wanting to risk hurting his feelings again. “But, you’re a Slytherin, and a pervy one at that.” 

Lucius chuckled. “And you’re complaining? Many regard those traits as assets.” 

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. “All right. Deal. Anything I want?”

Lucius’ grey eyes sharpened with suspicion as he peered down at Hermione. “Within reason.”

“And what does that mean?” Hermione demanded. 

“That means … you know what that means, Hermione.” 

“Fine, ” she conceded, tapping her finger to her chin. “Hmm, let’s see … my feet are very sore. I’ve been running back and forth from meetings all day.” 

The puzzlement on Lucius’ face almost made Hermione laugh. 

“And what exactly does that have to do with me?”

“Well,” she said with a sly smile. “I think it would be lovely to have someone pay extra attention to them.”

Lucius appeared amused. “Very well. I’ll summon Tizzy. She’ll give you a proper foot massage.”

“No, I don’t want Tizzy. I want you to do it,” she said pointedly. 

Hermione watched as Lucius’ eyes dropped to her shoes. A deep frown grew on his face. 

“I don’t do feet.”

“Lucius, you said I could have anything I want within reason,” Hermione pointed out. “This is perfectly reasonable. In fact, I’d be greatly offended if you didn’t want to touch my toes. They’re a part of my body, after all.”

He flashed a disarming smile. “Wouldn’t you prefer something more pleasurable, such as oral sex?”

“No thank you… your son did a thorough job of that last night,” she said smartly.

Looking away, Lucius cursed under his breath. 

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for his acquiescence.

“Oh, all right!” he said in resignation. “A foot massage then.”

“No, not just a massage,” Hermione explained. “My feet need to be soaked, exfoliated, and then moisturised … that’s where the massage comes in.” 

“Great Salazaar! Hermione, I don’t even know _how_ to exfoliate!” 

“You’re lying; your skin is impeccable, so I know you do it,” Hermione argued.

“Some of us don’t have to work hard to look good. It’s in the genes, my dear,” Lucius said haughtily. 

Hermione didn’t doubt it, but she refused to compromise. Her stare never wavered.

At last, Lucius sighed in defeat. “Very well. But you do realise that after I do this, it will be my turn.”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said as if the thought didn’t frighten her, even though it did a little. 

A devious leer danced in Lucius’ eyes as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “And knowing that, you still want me to soak and massage your feet?”

His voice was like pure silk, and the dark undercurrent of his words sent a shiver down Hermione’s spine. Still, she was determined not to let him shake her. 

She held up her chin defiantly. “Most certainly. And don’t forget to exfoliate!”

Lucius pulled back with a smirk on his face, giving Hermione an unusually low bow. “Then, your wish is my command.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but it was too late to back out now. She gave him a curt nod, but let out a squeak when Lucius lifted her off her feet to carry her back to his bedroom. 

He set her on the bed and summoned Tizzy. The elf popped before them immediately. Hermione watched as they disappeared inside the bathroom, becoming impatient as the minutes ticked by. When Lucius emerged he was alone, shirtless, and barefoot. 

“M’lady, your bath is ready,” he said. 

Hermione did a double take, trying to ascertain whether Lucius was mocking her or trying to play his part exceptionally. 

She was prepared to laugh as she entered the bathroom, but was pleasantly surprised to see the tub filled with water covered in rose petals. 

“Oh, Lucius, this is lovely,” she gushed.

“I’m glad it pleases you. If you will, disrobe and step in,” he said. 

Hermione slowly took off her clothing, offering a seductive bat of the eye as Lucius watched her closely. She fully expected him to call the whole thing off and ravish her on the bathroom floor, despite the rather obvious erection under his trousers, he simply offered her his hand and helped her step inside of the tub. 

Hermione slowly set one foot into the water, gasping when her skin touched it. It was very hot, but as she sank beneath the surface, the temperature became more tolerable. A closer inspection revealed that the rose petals were really magical oil capsules charmed to look like real flowers. Once she was fully seated, her entire body exhaled in response. This was what she needed. 

Basking in the soothing feel of the hot water and oil, Hermione closed her eyes; momentarily forgetting Lucius was even in the room until she heard him shift above. She opened her eyes just in time to watch him pull back his hair, the newly unencumbered view offering a magnificent display of his chest. His expression was very focused, as would be found on one determined to do his task well. When he reached in and seized one of her feet with a strong hand, Hermione reclined against the basin. 

“And when exactly am I supposed to … exfoliate?” he asked with disdain.

“In a few minutes. You’ll use that scrub there,” Hermione explained, pointing at the jar behind Lucius. 

Lucius glanced back at the substance as if its mere presence caused offence. “Very well. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about your day,” he said as he reached down into the tub to stroke her feet. 

“Oh mmm … well, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me this morning,” Hermione started, but then stopped herself. Should she tell him about Skeeter or the promotions now? She didn’t want to ruin a good moment.

But it was already too late. Lucius was watching her like a hawk; ready to snatch up whatever she had to say. 

“Well?” he pressed. “What happened?”

Hermione bit her lip, unsure of what to disclose and what to leave out. 

“Hermione, I thought we just agreed to be completely honest with each other,” Lucius chided.

Nodding slowly, Hermione reclined and closed her eyes once more as she explained everything that Skeeter and Simon had revealed. 

Somewhere between exfoliation and rinse, Lucius' grip on her toes tightened considerably. 

“Lucius! Do you mind?” she asked sharply.

“What? Oh …” he said, loosening his hold on her feet. “I just can’t believe what kind of media fiasco this has become. I’m not even sure I want the position that much.”

“Well, don’t give up now! With someone like you in leadership, things like the press's influence on the Ministry could be taken care of. Besides, Simon promised we’d have our promotions, just at a later time,” Hermione reassured.

“Yes, but what concerns me are the rumours,” he said. “If Skeeter heard that I was a possible suspect in Christina’s murder, then that means the leak probably came from the Aurors’ office. It also puts me at a serious disadvantage in the elections, not to mention it may make my guests wary about attending future events.” 

“Well, we don’t know for certain that it came from the Aurors' office. I’ll have Cho look into it. And let’s not forget that Skeeter is always “hearing” things, but most of them never turn out to be true. And, I believe we may have a secret weapon.”

Lucius paused, looking at her curiously. 

Hermione knew it was too premature to mention, but Lucius needed some reassurance. 

“I think I can persuade Harry to back you.”

For a second, Lucius appeared dumbfounded, and then a very cynical look settled on his face. 

He scoffed. “Potter? He’d never support me! Hermione, you really don’t know your friends very well, do you?”

“Lucius, Harry is a reasonable person. I’m sure if I have an opportunity to talk to him and review all of the good things you’ve done lately, he’ll be open to the idea of backing you.” 

“Yes, well, I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for Potter’s endorsement,” Lucius said. “But it is obvious that I need a secret weapon of some sort. This may get quite ugly; they’re already attacking my character. At least I can take comfort in the fact that Weasley has directed much of the suspicion away from me …” 

He withdrew his hands. “All done. Now out of the tub with you,” he said, reaching back to retrieve a towel. 

Hermione rose slowly, watching him as he presented her with a towel. She dried off, wrapping the towel around her before stepping out, all the while thinking of a way to broach the subject of Ron. 

Lucius pocketed a bottle of lotion and lifted her to carry her into the bedroom. 

He set her down so that she was sitting up against the pillows and headboard and then he climbed onto the bed to sit facing her. As he lifted one of her feet onto his lap, Hermione took a deep breath.

“Lucius …”

“Mmm?” he replied, kneading her foot with just the right amount of pressure.

Hermione hesitated. This felt too good to disrupt, but she had to be honest with him. 

“I don’t think Ron is guilty. You said it yourself: you couldn’t believe he’d kill someone.”

Lucius’ hands stopped, his eyes sharpening. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. He’s a Weasley, and the worst of the bunch. Everyone knows that family is full of hotheads, so I really wouldn’t put it past him, especially considering the way he provoked and tried to hurt my son. He deserves prison time for that infraction alone. Besides, it’s irrelevant to me whether he’s guilty or not. The Auror department obviously considers him a person of interest, which diverts the attention away from me.” 

He spoke with such conviction and finality that Hermione reluctantly swallowed all of the reasons why she believed he was wrong. 

It would be a fruitless argument anyway; there was nothing to be gained from trying to convince Lucius of Ron’s innocence, and it would only make things awkward. So Hermione focused instead on the soothing feel of his large hands working their magic into her soles.

Once Lucius realised she was not going to argue with him, he seemed to relax. His eyes focused on her feet as he continued to massage them in silence. 

Hermione noticed little things as he did. Like how long his lashes really were – it was hard to tell normally, because they were so light. And how few lines he had on his face despite his maturity. Even now as he worked diligently on his task, the lines of concentration in his brow were remarkably faint. Her eyes drifted from his face to his arms, where the muscles shifted with his hand movements, making his smooth, pale skin ripple. Even his abhorrent Dark Mark, which remained colourful and stark after all these years, seemed more like a decoration than an ugly reminder of his former life. 

“There, all done,” he said as he swept his hands over her feet one last time. 

Hermione blinked at the loss of touch. His hands had lulled her into a trance; she had no idea where the last twenty or so minutes had gone, but she was very disappointed that she couldn’t relive them. 

“Now … it’s my turn,” he drawled.

The last vestiges of blissful relaxation vanished as Hermione spied Lucius’ devilish smirk and the dark glint in his eye. 

What in the world had she agreed to? Before she could ask, he was already on his feet. 

“Remove the towel and lie back,” he ordered.

With nervous fingers, Hermione reached up to undo the towel covering her. 

“Faster,” he insisted.

She quickly took it off and tossed it to her side and lay back down, flat on her back. 

Completely nude and exposed, her eyes darted to the side to see what Lucius was up to. He hadn’t moved since standing and there was nothing in his hand, but that did not comfort her. So when he retrieved his wand from his back pocket, Hermione immediately bolted into an upright sitting position.

“I said lie down. You know I don’t like repeating myself,” he reminded with just a hint of threat in his voice.

“What are you going to do?” Hermione asked anxiously, watching him expertly twirl his wand between his fingers.

“Now now, you’re going to spoil the fun,” Lucius said playfully. “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Lucius …”

He stopped his twirling and frowned. “Hermione, what kind of monster do you think I am?”

Just the use of the word ‘monster’ and the look of hurt in his eyes completely disarmed her. 

“I don’t think you’re a monster!” she insisted.

“Humpf,” Lucius said indignantly, his nose in the air. 

“All right,” Hermione sighed in resignation as she lay back down. 

She tried to remain calm as he took a seat beside her on the bed, but when Lucius moved his wand over her belly, she sucked in air, waiting to be stung. 

But there was no pain, just the light tickle of the wood travelling over her stomach and up her chest to trace the nipple of her left breast until it was erect. Hermione began to relax as he switched to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. The sensation became increasingly arousing, especially when it became evident he wasn’t going to hurt her. 

Hermione became suspicious as the tip of the wand drifted from her breasts to glide over her left shoulder and bicep. 

“Extend your arms out on each side,” Lucius ordered softly.

“What are you up to?” she asked with a curious smile.

“Mmm, wouldn’t you love to know,” Lucius said with a shadow of a smirk. 

Hermione giggled as the wand tickled her, travelling down the length of her arm until it reach her wrists where it paused to make light circles. She watched as it moved up her arm once more, over her chest and up her chin to her nose where Lucius lightly tapped her as if dotting an imaginary “i”.

Amused, she wrinkled her nose at the gesture, unable to stop the smile growing on her face.

“Now you’re just being silly,” she teased.

“Me? Silly?” Lucius repeated in bewilderment.

“Yes … quite,” Hermione said grinning.

He tilted his head, considering her. “At first you were afraid of what I was going to do, and now you’re trying to goad me into really punishing you. For heaven’s sake, woman, make up your mind.”

“Just get on with it,” Hermione ordered with a cheeky smile. 

“Very well,” he said sliding the tip of his wand down her other arm to mimic the circles he made on the other wrist. 

Hermione turned her head to gaze at her wrist in puzzlement. It didn’t feel any different, but the repetition of Lucius’ wand movements was disconcerting. Testing a hypothesis, she tried to lift her arm, but found it firmly secured to the bed.

She gasped and tried to raise her other arm, but it too was tightly bound in place.

When she looked up, Lucius was staring down at her, his face impassive.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, concern creeping into her voice.

“Hermione, if you ask me that question one more time,” Lucius said in steely, quiet voice. “I promise you, I will prolong whatever I am planning. Do you understand?”

Hermione gulped. “Yes, Lucius.”

Her eyes followed his wand as it trailed down the centre of her chest to her belly once more, pausing at the mound of her pussy. It was hard not to squirm as it tickled the light dusting of pubic hair. When he dragged the thin, hard shaft down towards her clit, Hermione froze.

Using the tip of the wand, Lucius lightly caressed the bundle of nerves again and again. A current of lust flooded Hermione, and her hips twisted involuntarily, trying to increase the friction. Lucius pulled his wand back and clicked his teeth in disapproval. 

Hermione groaned and opened her mouth to protest, but one look from Lucius told her to swallow it down. 

Lucius resumed his path, trailing his wand along her thigh to her ankles where he made the same tiny circles he’d made on her wrists. He repeated the action on her other leg, binding her completely to the bed.

Stretched out before him, Hermione felt helpless and vulnerable. When Lucius reached back to retrieve something hidden behind his back, she let out a small squeak. 

Lucius chuckled, bringing his hand from around his back. In his hand was the pink-coloured lotion he’d just used for her foot massage. Hermione sighed in relief.

He poured generous amounts over the length of her body, and then, starting at her chest, went to work massaging it into her skin. 

“Mmm,” Hermione sighed approvingly. “That feels great.”

“Good …” Lucius drawled, lightly tweaking her nipples as he smoothed the lotion over her breasts.

His touch had never felt so attentive, and the effect was immediate. Warmth spread throughout Hermione’s body, pooling between her legs. 

“I like this punishment,” she murmured.

“Do you?” Lucius asked softly. 

Hermione hummed in affirmation.

“Do you remember _why_ you’re being punished?” Lucius asked as his hands moved down her torso.

Hermione sighed, trying to remember as his intuitive fingertips pressed and squeezed in all the right places.

“Because I was dishonest…well, technically, I didn’t really lie; I simply failed to disclose the entire truth. And only because I was made to swear to do so.”

“Hmm, it doesn’t sound as if you’re convinced you did anything wrong,” Lucius said with a question in his voice. 

His fingers were easing their way down to her right thigh. Hermione squirmed as much as her binds would allow, her body reacting on instinct as his long fingers dipped dangerously close to her sex.

“I do, but …” Hermione paused. Just where was Lucius going with this? 

She opened her eyes and was startled to see him leering down at her with the most sinister smirk. A shiver passed through her, pushing a full confession out of her.

“But I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“No, you really shouldn’t have,” Lucius said, his fingers dancing over her skin, creating fresh goose bumps. 

Hermione tensed once more, preparing herself for the real punishment to begin, but Lucius continued to massage deeply, pausing only to add more lotion. 

In a matter of minutes, Hermione’s soft moans filled the room as Lucius kneaded knots she hadn't even known existed. She had had a good massage since well, never, really. 

Hermione began to wonder what he was thinking. He had made it a point to emphasise why she was being punished and then dropped the matter completely. Normally, this would have concerned her, but Lucius’ strong hands and nimble fingers wielded a magic of their own, and she really couldn’t be arsed to overanalyze his intentions when he was making her feel this good. 

Soon, her eyelids fell and she drifted into a light sleep. When she awoke, Hermione gasped from the tingling sensation spreading over her body. Lucius was still sitting beside her, but the substance on her skin was blue instead of pink. 

As he replenished it, dripping more onto her flesh, every nerve came alive as if touched by a lover’s hot breath or soft kiss.

“What is that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Something to enhance your punishment,” Lucius said with a smirk.

Little shocks and tingles rippled under her flesh when he poured generous amounts over her chest, the sensation making her nipples hard as pebbles. Whatever that blue substance was, it had the same effect of alternating an ice cube with warming lubricant. 

“Oh, Lucius! That’s enough! That’s enough!” Hermione choked out.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you don’t like this?” Lucius asked innocently, lightly running his forefinger over the lubricated area of her skin.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but instead a moan escaped as a tingling sensation exploded in the wake of Lucius’ touch. . 

“Oh! I – yes! But it’s very intense!” she managed. 

“Yes, it is,” he said. 

As his fingertips moved in a strange rhythm over her skin, Hermione’s eyelids fluttered. He was playing her body like an imaginary instrument, and Hermione’s cunt was throbbing in response. One finger felt like five, and five felt like ten. It was too much stimulation, yet not enough to satisfy. Any inclination she had to plead for mercy was silenced by the need to see it through to completion. Surely he meant to satisfy her soon … 

Besides, if Hermione backed out of her punishment now, Lucius would always remind her of her weakness. She had to ride this one out. 

Just when she had made up her mind to not cave in, Lucius’ hand slid down to her sex, his fingertips grazing her clit. He'd barely touched her, but it was enough to send Hermione jumping as far as her binds would allow. 

Lucius chuckled softly again, tracing over the tight bud of nerves with his fingertip. A powerful jolt surged through her cunt, making Hermione cry out in need. But Lucius withdrew his hand, causing her entire body ached for him to touch her once more. And he did, again and again, but never for too long. 

She growled in aggravation.

“What’s the matter, Hermione? Would you like for me to stop? I will understand if you cannot handle your punishment,” he said in a mocking tone. 

“No, go on. I can take it,” she bit out with determination.

“Good,” Lucius drawled. “After all, it’s only fair after what you put me through.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, her tongue set to deliver a retort. 

But Lucius pulled his hand back once more, and she thought better of it. 

“You were about to say something, darling?” Lucius asked, returning his hand to her wet opening. 

Hermione shook her head, writhing under his touch in hopes of creating more friction. It didn’t matter though, Lucius clearly had his own agenda, withdrawing his hand whenever she became too accustomed to his touch, only to resume teasing her again when she settled. 

Finally, against her own inclination, Hermione summoned all of her willpower and trained her body to remain still 

This was becoming unbearable! Hermione shut her eyes, trying to think of something to distract her. However, the only thing she could imagine was Lucius filling her. She needed his fingers, his cock, his bloody tongue … something! 

Of course, this was what he'd wanted! Hermione opened her eyes, expecting to find him taking joy in her agony. But there was no cheer in his face. On the contrary, he looked quite put-out despite the prominent erection visibly straining his trousers. 

A spark of hope sprang within her. If Lucius was just as frustrated and aroused as she was, then certainly relief was sure to follow. 

As if reading Hermione’s thoughts, Lucius plunged two long fingers inside of her. She moaned in satisfaction, grinding her hips against the intrusion. The substance coating on his hands now lined the inside of her cunt, creating powerful sparks of heightened pleasure. But it still wasn’t enough. Lucius’ fingers moved at their own pace, ignoring her body’s desperate urging. In and out, slow and methodical, his finger-fucking inspired a maddening new kind of ache. 

Still, Hermione tried to work towards her own pleasure. When it became clear she wouldn’t be able to achieve it on her own, she looked up at him in desperation.

“Lucius …”

His fingers stilled as he looked down at her plainly. “Hermione, I want to make sure you understand something. Are you listening?” 

She nodded quickly, hoping to hasten his words so that he could fill her again. 

“Draco means everything to me. He’s my proudest achievement.”

“Yes, I know,” Hermione said.

“And you … you’re one of the few people I trust,” he said, returning his hand to the entrance of her wet sex.

Hermione tried hard to stay still and not beg as Lucius strummed her aching sex like a harpsichord. 

“So, when I discovered that not only had my son been in an altercation and was wounded, but that one of the only people I have ever trusted concealed the incident from me, I was very disappointed … and hurt,” he said as he sank two fingers back inside of her.

Hermione moaned. “Yes, I understand, Lucius,” she managed, twisting her hips as much as her binds would allow. “As I’ve already said, I’m very sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

Lucius leaned over her, looking into her eyes before capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. Hermione kissed him back earnestly, hoping it would be enough of a peace offering to end her longing. 

He broke the kiss and brought his lips to her ear. “How can I be sure? You’ve already lied to me once,” he whispered.

The low sultry baritone of his voice and the feel of his hot breath in his ear only amplified the feel of his magnificent, long fingers thrusting in and out of her.

Hermione bucked against his hands as much as she could, the need to feel more of him growing by the minute. She was nearly ready to beg if she had to, but before she could open her mouth, Lucius pulled back to look down at her. 

“As much as this pains me, I’m going to have to leave you unsatisfied tonight.” 

Hermione gasped and shook her head. “Lucius … please ….”

Withdrawing his fingers, Lucius leaned over to give her one final kiss on the cheek. 

The ache between her legs spread, and the tingling created by the substance he’d massaged into her skin only made it worse. 

“Lucius, you can’t be serious! This is cruel!”

He stood up and sighed regretfully. “Then for both of our sakes, don’t ever make me do this again.” 

Desperation and need trumped her pride as Lucius gave her one last look and then turned to leave.

“Lucius, please! I’m sorry! I really am!” she cried as her legs began to quiver from unabated need. 

He opened the door and paused to look back. “Yes, I do believe you truly are now. Good night, Hermione.”

“Lucius!” she yelled out as the torchlights extinguished and the door closed. 

Hermione beat her head against the pillow several times before giving up and closing her eyes, hoping sleep would overtake her soon.


	16. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Awakened by a tickling sensation upon her cheek, Hermione wrinkled her nose and turned her head against the mattress. But the tickling only spread, up the side of her face and down to her neck. Startled, she opened her eyes and gasped.

Lucius was leaning over her, light wisps of his long hair brushing over her skin as he planted soft kisses along her jaw.

“Lucius! What are you doing?” she growled.

He paused, pulling back to stare at her.

“I was trying to say good morning.”

“Well, don’t bother!” Hermione spat. “I have nothing to say to you! And don’t touch me, either!”

Lucius gave her a pouty mouth and puppy-dog eyes. “You’re still upset about last night?”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel! I swear, if I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d—” Hermione paused as awareness sank in. She looked down, taking in the soft, green cashmere blanket draped over her body. Her arms were no longer spread out and bound. Shocked to see she had full faculty of her limbs, she lifted her hands to inspect her wrists. Still in doubt, she tested the freedom of her legs, rubbing her knees together and wiggling her toes beneath the blanket.

When she looked back up, Lucius was staring at her with a pleased smile on his face.

She scowled. “Just because you released me doesn’t change the fact that you left me bound all night!”

“I did no such thing!” Lucius protested. “I came back an hour later to untie you. It’s not my fault you fell asleep.”

Hermione folded her arms over her chest, determined to remain angry. Secretly, she was just as irritated with herself for missing Lucius’ return, but it still didn’t excuse his behavior.

“I trusted you,” she accused.

Lucius scoffed. “And how exactly have I violated that trust?”

“You tricked me! You got me all hot and bothered, and then left me bound and very unsatisfied!”

Lucius frowned. “Let’s get something straight, shall we? First, you agreed to submit to whatever punishment I chose, as long as it was within reason …”

“Yes, but—”

“Second,” Lucius continued, “I only left you bound for one hour. You’re very fortunate that I love you or you might still be bound. Do I need to remind you that I washed, _exfoliated,_ and massaged your feet for nearly _two_ hours?”

She huffed stubbornly.

Lucius sighed. “Hermione, do you actually think I enjoyed watching you get all worked up only to deny you -- _and myself_ \-- the satisfaction of giving you pleasure?”

Hermione held her chin up. “Yes.”

She waited for his protest or quick-witted retort, but instead she was greeted by silence and a sad, pained expression. The seconds stretched out into minutes, turning Hermione’s stubborn anger into discomfort.

Finally, Lucius spoke. “It saddens me to hear you say that. I was merely trying to show you how hurtful your actions were. It seems no matter what I do, you misunderstand me.”

Hermione sighed as reluctant sympathy tugged at her heart. She gently lifted his chin until their eyes met. “Lucius, I do understand. It was just … so frustrating. You have no idea what effect you have on me.”

“If I affect you even a fraction as much as you affect me, then I know all-too well how frustrated you were,” Lucius said softly. “But that was the point — it was punishment.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes skeptically. “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy it at all? Not even a tiny bit?”

“Well …” Lucius said slowly. “Perhaps a little. But I promise you, I would have much preferred to give you release. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than to see you writhing at my hands. I love you.”

Hermione set her jaw stubbornly, clutching her arms to her chest as she tried to avoid melting from the tenderness in his eyes. “I love you too, Lucius, but I’m still angry.”

Lucius leaned in again. “Really? It’s not …” he murmured, kissing her on the cheek, “my fault…” His kisses trailed down her neck. “You fell asleep before I could relieve you …” He nuzzled closer and lightly nibbled on her ear before whispering, “But fortunately, we’re both awake now. I propose this time, we make up properly.”

Hermione sighed, her resistance quickly dissipating. “Mmm, I’m not sure I have time. I have to be at the office shortly. Some of us actually have to work for a living.”

Lucius’ low chuckle sent vibrations along her neck and tingles down her spine. “It’s only 6:30am. We have plenty of time.”

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered as his hot lips scorched her flesh. His hands were planted firmly on the bed, respectfully waiting for her permission to go further, and the longer he kissed, the pettier her anger seemed.

She smiled, gripping the back of his head and pushing her hand into his hair. “Well, if you insist …”

~~~*~~~

Arriving at the Ministry twenty minutes before the workday officially started, she decided to pay a visit to the lounge, hoping to run into Draco. Disappointed when he failed to make an appearance, she slowly made her way to her department. As soon as she entered her office, she noticed something peculiar. Her usual post had not arrived, yet on top of her desk, as bright as daylight, there was a Chudley Cannons orange envelope. She stared at the offensively-colored rectangle for several moments before slowly walking over to pick it up. There was no identifying mark of the sender, but she had already guessed who it was from. She pulled out her wand and waved it over the envelope, casting a ‘Revelio’ to inspect the letter for hidden hexes or charms. There were none. Slowly, she tore open the parcel, her heart beating fast.   

_Hermione,_

_I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but I had to write and tell you how sorry I am for everything. You have no idea how sorry I really am. I know you probably never want to speak to me again, let alone see me, but I really need to talk to you. Being locked up has given me a lot of time to think, and I don’t want to be sent to Azkaban without telling you everything. If you have any feeling at all left for me, I hope you can find it in your heart to at least come and see me. Harry can arrange it; just let him know. I really hope you do._    

_Ron_   

Hermione stared down at the letter, her hand quivering from anger. She quickly balled the letter up and threw it in the trash, casting a small ‘Incendio’ to remove all traces of it.   

 _Sorry, Ron, you ran out of chances,_ she thought before taking her seat and diving into the mountain of work upon her desk.  

Like a lesson with Trelawney, the first hour crept by painfully as Hermione tried to bury herself in reading. Her mind kept wandering to Lucius and the elections, and she had a strong urge to venture outside of her office to see if she could pick up any tidbits of gossip.   

So when Abbey knocked on her door, Hermione welcomed her with open arms for a change. The apple-faced brunette practically jumped at the chance to have a sit-down chat with Hermione.  

They talked for nearly an hour and a half, and by the time lunch rolled around, Hermione was nearly nauseous from the squeaky tone of Abbey’s voice and the sheer volume of office gossip. Just as Hermione’s patience had reached its end, they were interrupted by a firm knock on the door.   

“Come in,” she exclaimed with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm.  

When the door opened and Draco stuck his head in, Hermione's brain did cartwheels and sent up a cheer. His timing couldn’t have been better.   

“Hi, Draco,” Abbey said with an air of familiarity that made Hermione want to roll her eyes.  

“Hello. Ah… I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name,” Draco said.   

Hermione could barely contain her snigger as Abbey’s face turned a bright red.  

“It’s Abbey. Abbey Reid.”  

“Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Abbey,” Draco said, his attention immediately shifting. 

“Hermione, I was hoping to take you out for lunch, but if you’re busy —”  

“No!” Hermione said quickly. “We were just finishing up.”   

“That’s right, it is lunchtime, isn’t it?” Abbey said. “I should be leaving. Talk to you later, Hermione.” 

She threw Hermione a small wink and smile as if they now shared a friendly secret.  

As soon as Abbey left, Hermione threw her head back and groaned.   

“I thought you didn’t like that girl?” Draco remarked in bemusement.  

“I don’t!” Hermione said. “I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her. But she sticks her nose in everyone’s business, so she has a lot of information. Being nice to her may work in our benefit.”  

“Our benefit?”  

“Apparently you, your father, and I are regarded as Ministry celebrities.”  

Draco puffed out his chest. “Not surprising really.”  

“Well, you may be surprised by what people are saying.”  

Draco frowned. “Tell me.”   

Hermione walked around her desk, taking Draco by the arm. “Let’s get out of here first. I need some air.”

~~~*~~~

Hermione led them to an out-of-the-way Italian restaurant where she requested for the hostess to seat them in the back. She needed a place where they could discuss office gossip without any chance of probing eyes or eavesdropping.   

“Don’t you think you’re taking the notion of discretion a bit far?” Draco asked, assessing his surroundings with a grimace. “Whatever you have to tell me can’t possibly require eating in a two star restaurant!”   

“Oh hush, Draco. This is a perfectly respectable establishment,” Hermione countered. “The service and ambiance may not be the best, but the food is wonderful.”   

Draco grunted as he inspected his fork. “Whatever,” he grumbled just as the waiter came over to welcome them and take their drink orders.   

Once the man was gone, Draco leaned over. “So, what exactly did Miss Busybody have to say?”  

“Okay,” Hermione said in a hushed voice. “So, Abbey said that the election is a really hot topic, and there’s even a running bet on who’s going to win. The pool is up to nearly two hundred galleons so far!”  

“Really?” Draco said, his eyebrows rising. “Who’s favoured to win?”  

Hermione winced. “Thicknesse. Two to one.”  

Draco scoffed. “That’s ludicrous! Father is clearly the better candidate. What are people thinking?”  

“That’s the problem, Draco. People actually love your father.”  

Draco titled his head, looking perplexed. “Wait, you've lost me…you just said Thicknesse was favoured.”  

Hermione shook her head. “No, I said Thicknesse is favoured _to win._ No one actually likes him. Lucius is actually the more popular candidate, at least among the female Ministry employees. They see him as some sort of refined deviant; a pervert with culture and style. Though, some just fancy his long hair.”   

Draco crinkled his nose as if he smelled something rank but held his tongue as their drinks arrived and their orders were taken. He waited until the waiter disappeared before speaking.   

“People prefer Father because of his looks and kinky reputation?”  

“Well, yes,” Hermione replied. “Oh and Abbey also said that everyone loves his Christmas parties.”  

“I see,” Draco said slowly as he contemplated her words. “So, the very things most people like about Father are probably also working against him.”  

“Exactly,” Hermione confirmed. “It doesn’t matter if Ministry employees like Lucius because they aren’t the ones with the power to vote. And frankly, the Board has never cared about the opinions of Ministry workers. Word is, some members of the Board aren't impressed enough with your father's charitable giving to overlook the rumors about him hosting kinky parties. As you know, members of the Board are considerably more…mature, and—”  

“Mature? Don't you mean old?” Draco sneered. “As in a bunch of old farts. I bet the lot of them are probably in bed by eight every night and haven’t had a good shag in years.”  

Hermione shrugged. “You’re probably right. Whatever the reason, most people seem to think the majority of them won’t cast their vote for Lucius.”   

“Great,” Draco said dryly. “How can Father possibly convince them otherwise? Did you learn anything else?”   

Hermione frowned, and then relaxed as she caught sight of the waiter approaching with their food. Once he retreated, she quickly began to eat, taking her time with chewing her food in an effort to stall discussing the next bit of news.   

“Hermione…” Draco prodded.  

“Oh, right,” Hermione sighed. “Well, that’s all Abbey told me about your father and the election, but there is gossip about us as well.”  

“Go on.”  

“Well, she was uncomfortable discussing it, but she finally admitted there’s also a few running wagers about Ron as well: whether or not he’ll be tried and whether or not he’ll be found guilty.”  

“What’s that have to do with us?” Draco asked in irritation, clearly vexed to even hear Ron’s name.  

“Because people are divided over whether he should be held completely accountable or if you and I are somehow partly responsible for pushing him over the edge.”   

“You can’t be serious?” Draco said incredulously.   

Hermione sighed. “Unfortunately, I am. Ron has a lot of fans in the office. But really, that’s neither here nor there. What we need to concentrate on is your father. He has to find a way to win real votes.”  

“But how?”  

“I think we should encourage him to court each member. Take them out to lunch, perhaps host a dinner party.”   

“I’m not sure Father would do that,” Draco said, running his hand across his furrowed brow. “He has his limits, and a lot of pride. Besides, is that even allowed?”   

“Yes,” Hermione said. “I did some research, and it appears as if Wades did it in ’88 and Thompson did it ’90. Both won their seats.”  

Draco sat back, considering her. “I suppose it’s worth a try then.”   

“Of course it is,” Hermione said. “Until the election is over, your father has a chance to win that seat. Let’s say he sponsors a nice luncheon, making his home accessible and his intentions transparent. The Board members will see he has nothing to hide. And with Harry’s support—”  

“Hold on!” Draco said, his eyes wide and disbelieving. “ _Potter_ is backing Father? When did that happen?”  

“Well, nothing is set yet,” Hermione said hesitantly. “But I invited Harry over for dinner tonight, and I think I can talk him into doing it.”   

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Draco said with a dismissive headshake.  

“Then you won’t have to wait long,” Hermione said with determination.  

Draco smiled at her, his eyes full of wonder. “You’re amazing–"   

“Thank you,” Hermione said quickly, blushing.  

"–ly naïve,” he finished flatly.   

Hermione scowled. “Draco, I know Harry. He’s fair and reasonable. He’ll listen to what I have to say, you’ll see.”   

“If you say so,” Draco said, leaning over the table as if to confide something. “In the meantime, tell me something…”  

Hermione scooted closer to listen. “What?”  

“What kind of knickers do you have on?” he whispered with a leer.  

Heat rushed to Hermione’s face as a familiar ripple of excitement ran through her body. She scanned the room for other patrons. The restaurant was crowded towards the front, but their partitioned off section was nearly empty save one elderly woman near the far window. 

“You first,” she challenged.  

Draco’s gave her a ridiculous look. “I don’t wear knickers.” 

“You know what I mean,” Hermione said. “What color are your boxers today?”  

“Cerulean Blue,” Draco replied. “I’ll be happy to show them to you later.”  

Hermione smiled. “I like blue. Mine are Rosso Corsa.”    

Draco pulled back and gazed at her, as if trying to picture the color on Hermione’s arse. His eyes quickly lit up. “Ah, you saucy little witch. I generally dislike red, but on your arse, I’m sure it looks lovely,” he said, holding out his hand. “Give them to me.”  

Hermione nearly dropped her fork. “What?”  

“You heard me. I want you to take your knickers off, and hand them to me.”   

Once again, Hermione’s eyes searched the room as a nervous flutter bothered her stomach. It wasn’t the food. Indigestion had never caused heat to blossom between her legs. With his deadpan stare and the unusual absence of a smirk, Draco's request became more of a quiet demand.   

“Well?” he said, with one eyebrow raised.   

“How did we go from discussing office politics to you confiscating my knickers?” Hermione asked.  

“Just do it.”  

“What if don’t?” she challenged.  

Draco’s face became impassive as he shrugged. “Then you don’t. I’m certainly not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”  

As he resumed eating, confusion nagged at Hermione's thoughts. She should have been relieved that he wasn’t going to push her to fulfill such a ridiculous request, but instead she was disappointed. The thrill of the game she'd become accustomed to playing had been deflated like a punctured balloon. And now she wanted it back. She wanted to feel the rush of anticipation that always followed whenever she trusted Draco to lead her into the risky _unknown._   

“Fine, I’ll do it,” she said, rising from her seat. “Just give me a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”  

“No,” Draco said, motioning for her to sit back down. “I want you to take them off right here and then hand them to me.”   

Hermione froze, staring at him in complete disbelief. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”   

“Absolutely,” Draco said, a dare in his eyes.  

Slowly, she took her seat again. “Your depravity knows no bounds.”  

“And you love it. Now hand them over,” he said.   

Hermione raised her chin, taking on the challenge with gusto. “As you wish.”  

Hiking her skirt up under the table proved to be more difficult than she'd imagined. She tried to lift her bum discreetly and reach underneath her skirt to find the edges of her knickers without looking terribly obvious. 

Draco seemed to be enjoying her struggle, and a small smirk stayed on his lips. Finally, Hermione’s fingers grazed the fabric and she tugged, sliding her knickers down over her thigh highs until they would go no further.  

She rolled her eyes and sighed, casually knocking her fork to the floor. “Oops,” she said, bending over just enough to complete the task. Finally, she managed to get her knickers over her feet. Feeling strangely accomplished, she sat back up with both her fork and knickers in tow.   

“Here,” she said, offering them under the table until she felt Draco’s fingers caressing hers softly. He pulled them from her hand and then gave her palm a warm squeeze.  

“Good girl.”  

“What are you going to do with those, pervert?”  

A slow grin spread across Draco’s face. “Watch you squirm as you greet your coworkers. And only you and I will know that underneath your skirt, your cunt is bare for me.”  

Draco’s mischievous smirk and dirty words were making her wet. She swore to herself and squeezed her legs together so as not to ruin her skirt.   

“They really have no idea what a naughty girl you are.”  

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Hermione said with a smirk to rival his. “I’m seeing you now, so I’m sure they’ve figured it out.”

 

~~~*~~~

Despite Draco’s reservations, by the time Harry showed for dinner, Hermione had already devised a plan for approaching him about backing Lucius. But it was thrown off completely when Harry brought up the choking party he and Cho had attended the previous week.   

“Oh, right,” Hermione said, momentarily at a loss for words. “Honestly, Harry, with everything that’s happened in the past week, I completely forgot about that party. So how did it go?”  

“Before I get into that,” Harry said. “Have you spoken to Cho lately?”  

Hermione glanced down at her food, feeling slightly guilty about not having owled her friend since the altercation between Draco and Ron.   

“I think she misses you,” Harry said. “And don’t tell her I told you this, but I'm pretty sure she thinks you’re angry with her.”  

“What? Why?”  

 Harry shrugged. “You haven’t spoken since the party. She probably thinks you’re still mad about involving me in all of this.”  

“Right,” Hermione said, cursing herself for being too caught up in her own drama to reach out to her friend. “I’ll contact her tomorrow, first thing.”   

“Good,” Harry said with a small smile.  

“And what about you?” Hermione shot back. “Have you spoken to Ginny yet?”  

Averting his eyes, Harry took a long sip of water before answering.   

“Harry!”  

“I haven’t had the time!” Harry exclaimed. “I’ve been swamped with the Van Buron case and Ron’s as well. I swear, as soon as I can, I’ll sit down and talk to her.”  

Wariness set in as Hermione stared back at her friend. “The sooner the better.”  

“I know. I will,” Harry promised. “Now, would you like to hear about the party?”   

Hermione bit back a lecture about fidelity as she tried to quell her frustration with Harry. It would do no good at this point, so she just sighed in resignation. “Yes, fine. How did it go?”   

Harry relaxed a little and scratched his head. “It went well, I think. Cho went as my submissive.”   

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I would have liked to have seen that!”  

A bashful smile crept on Harry’s lips. “It was… interesting. People are still pretty freaked out about the murder. Attendance at parties and clubs is really low, but we did manage to run into a few people from Lucius’ last party.”  

“Really? Who?”  

“Dennis Creevey, for one,” Harry replied.  

Hermione’s eyes grew so wide they felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. But before she could even utter a word, Harry waved away her assumption.  “I know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t make sense.”  

“Why not? You said that the primary suspect is probably blond. Dennis is blond, rather good looking, and you have to admit – he’s always been a bit _strange._ And after Colin died, he became even weirder. Then there’s the fact that after Hogwarts, he just up and vanishes. Who knows what he’s been up to.”  

Harry scoffed. “Now you’re reaching.”   

“How do you figure?”   

“Well, for one, he went to study abroad, in America. So it’s not like no one knew where he was. And I wouldn’t call him strange, just eccentric really. And from what we learned, Christina had particular tastes. _Very particular._ She doesn’t just play with blonds, but with wealthy blonds of a particular stock.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, feeling her heart sink into her stomach.   

“Remember, Dennis is Muggle-born. And an old-guard pureblood like Christina probably wouldn’t have even allowed someone like him to take her picture, let alone sleep with him.”  

“He’s a photographer?”  

“Yeah,” Harry said. “He does freelance photography. He has as a small booth in the art shoppe in Diagon.”  

“Figures,” Hermione muttered as her brief moment of hope dissipated. “Did you find out anything else?”  

“Actually, yes,” Harry said. “They say that after Christina’s murder, there was a short list of suspects with blond hair. But when Ron’s girlfriend was murdered, that list became completely useless. Everyone knows Victoria was into redheads. Like, _really_ into redheads. People say she played with anything sporting red hair and a whip. And word has it that she was cheating on Ron for several weeks before her murder.”   

Hermione covered her mouth in surprise.   

“I know. Terrible, isn’t it?” Harry said.  

Hermione swallowed. “That short list of blond suspects… did it ever include Lucius or Draco?”  

Harry shook his head. “No. Lucius seems to have a pretty solid reputation in the scene. People see him as a sort of guardian. No one thinks he or Draco had anything to do with it. They don’t even think Draco is kinky.”  

Hermione laughed as she recalled spending her afternoon knicker-less. “So much for reliability!”  

Harry cracked a small smile. “I’ll admit, after hearing how people talked about the two of them, it made me feel a bit better about you seeing them.”  

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”   

Harry nodded in with the air of a big brother giving his approval.   

Reaching across the table, Hermione grabbed his hand. “I’m glad to hear that, because I really do love them both.”   

Harry stared at Hermione for a long moment before speaking. “It’s going to take me some time to get used to this, Hermione.”  

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But you trust my judgment, right?”  

Harry regarded her with a wary expression before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I do.”  

“Good, because there’s something else I need to talk to you about, and I want you to hear me out before you respond, all right?”   

“Okay,” Harry said cautiously.   

“First, how about some dessert?” Hermione asked as she rose from the table. 

Harry's eyes followed her suspiciously as she cut a slice of treacle tart for each of them before taking her seat again.   

Over the next fifteen minutes, Hermione carefully laid out a detailed argument for why Lucius was the best candidate for the Head of the Board and why it was important for Harry to throw his political clout behind Lucius to help him get elected. She watched as Harry’s expressions changed like a boggart, starting at disbelief, then melting into cynicism and curiosity, and finally settling upon pensive contemplation.  

When she finished, there were a several moments of silence before he spoke.  

“You know, Hermione, you make Lucius sound like the poster boy for reform. Do you actually believe he’s completely changed?”   

“No, of course not,” Hermione responded. “No one completely changes. But he has changed in the most important ways. I mean, how can you argue against all of the things he’s done for the Ministry in the past five years? He’s more involved in charity than any other Board member. And just look at the way he’s conducted himself since being pardoned, his entire demeanor towards Muggleborns, and his relationship with me. He’s obviously the best candidate!”   

“I have two words that say otherwise.”  

Hermione stiffened as she looked back at Harry. She already knew what he was going to say.   

“Death. Eater.”  

Clicking her teeth, Hermione shook her head at Harry’s stubborn resentment.   

“At least Thicknesse can claim he was Imperio’d,” Harry argued. “Lucius joined the Death Eater ranks of his own free will!”  

“And he regrets it! You have no idea how very sorry he is about what he’s done.” 

Harry scoffed. “Ah come on, Hermione, do you actually believe that? This is Lucius Malfoy we’re talking about.”  

“Yes, Harry, Lucius Malfoy, a man I happen to be in love with! And a man you trusted enough to watch you get spanked by Cho!”  

Harry smacked his hand over his face, covering his eyes as he groaned. “That was a low blow.”  

“But it’s true. Harry, you’re a great judge of character. For you to have let your guard down enough to do something like that in front of Lucius must have meant something!” 

Harry sighed, looking up at the ceiling desperately. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation! Just five years ago, we were all angry as hell that he'd weaseled his way out of jail time. And now you want me to support his run for a position of power inside the Ministry? It’s mad!”  

“Five years ago, everything was different,” Hermione insisted. “We were different. Nothing in life stays the same. Things change, and so do people. You’ve seen it yourself. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially when they’ve shown they deserve it. And I think Lucius has more than proved he deserves one.”  

“Second chance, eh?” Harry said, leaning back to give Hermione a cynical stare. “And what about Ron?”  

Hermione blanched. “What about Ron? What does he have to do with this?”  

“Hermione, I know Ron contacted you. I know he wants to talk to you.”  

“Well, that’s going to be a bit difficult since he’s in jail!” Hermione exclaimed, unable to contain her frustration with both Harry and Ron.  

“No, he’s out,” Harry said, and then cringed as if expecting to be hit.  

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “What?”  

“He’s been cleared,” Harry explained. “At least as far as we’re concerned.”  

The news was hard to process. Hermione blinked at Harry several times before she could speak. “How? When?”  

“A few hours ago,” Harry explained. “We were finally able to locate a partial print and traces of semen, and it’s not his. Plus, the time of death doesn’t coincide with his movements that day. And there’s something else…but I think he should be the one to tell you.”  

“Harry—”  

“I know this is shocking to you, but you said it yourself: Ron couldn’t possibly murder anyone, especially like that.”  

Hermione closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to clear her thoughts and get hold of her emotions.   “Yes, I know what I said,” she finally said. “But…I just didn’t expect him to be cleared so fast. Honestly, I don’t know whether to be relieved or frightened.”  

Harry reached over to grab her hand. “You don’t have anything to be frightened of. That’s why I want you to meet with him.”  

Anger churned through her gut, producing a wave of nausea that threatened to expel her dinner across the table. Snatching her hand away, Hermione hissed, "Absolutely not! He harassed me! He’s had me followed, and he attacked Draco!”  

Harry sighed and nodded. “I know, but Hermione, you just gave me a lecture about Lucius and second chances, and he’s done far worse.”  

Hermione winced as she thought of Lucius’ past. Apparently Harry didn’t mind dishing out some low blows himself.  

“Right now, Ron needs another chance as well,” Harry said.  

“This isn’t fair,” Hermione whined. “I can’t be the one to give Ron a second chance. He’s taken too much from me. Besides, what could he possibly say to me right now that would change anything? People don’t change _overnight_ , Harry.” 

“You want to bet?” Harry said with a challenge.  

Hermione frowned. “What’s that supposed that mean? Stop being vague and just tell me why Ron wants to talk to me!”   

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. Ron is the only one who can do that.”  

Hermione groaned. “Harry, I’m trying to talk to you about Lucius and the election, and you're throwing this at me? Why?”  

Harry ran his hands up his face into his hair as if he wanted to pull out a fistful in frustration. “Do you think it’s easy for me to listen to you speak about Lucius as a lover? And as if that isn’t bad enough, you sit here with a straight face and ask me to support him in an election. Do you remember what he put us through? Who he supported?”  

Hermione swallowed. “Yes, but—”  

“Hermione, please – I listened to you, now listen to me.”  

She closed her mouth and waited for Harry to resume.  

Harry took a visible breath. “Now, you’ve made a really good case for backing Lucius. I mean, I’m not really impressed by his charity—he used to do that stuff before when he was a Death Eater. That’s how he got in good with the Ministry.”  

Hermione reluctantly acknowledged Harry’s point with a slow nod.   

“But,” Harry said, “I will admit that his recent work on the Board, his reputation in the BDSM scene, and his relationship with you has made me reconsider him. I want to get to know him better.”   

Hermione held her breath while Harry stared off as if in contemplation.   “Tell you what, if you agree to meet with Ron—”  

“Harry, no!”  

“In my company,” he continued. “I’ll be there, just in case things get heated.”  

Hermione shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this...”  

“If you do that, then I’ll agree to meet with Lucius and discuss the possibility of me backing him for the election,” Harry finished.  

“Harry, how dare you blackmail me!”  

“It’s not blackmail at all—I’m simply negotiating,” Harry defended.  

Hermione huffed. “Call it whatever you like, it’s underhanded! And what do you mean you’ll discuss _the possibility_ of backing Lucius? He isn’t going to beg for your support. He’s not even going to ask for it. He has too much pride.”  

“Fine. But I want to hear it from him,” Harry said with resolution. “I want to look Lucius Malfoy in the eyes while he tells me what his plans are for the Ministry. I won’t back him if I can’t.”  

They stared at each other, both wearing masks of stubborn conviction. But as the seconds itched by, a niggling voice of reason began worrying Hermione's thoughts. She had used the theme of second chances to pitch the idea to Harry, and his belief in that argument hinged on her actions, not her words. And despite the disquiet Hermione felt at the thought of being in the same room with Ron again, she was very curious to know what he had to say that Harry couldn’t tell. But most of all, she’d made a promise to Lucius to do everything she could to get him elected, and she wanted to see that through.   

“All right. I’ll meet with Ron, provided you’re there. Let’s do it this Saturday, but not in public and not in my home.”  

Cracking a tiny smile, Harry nodded. “Great. We’ll do it at my house then. And after it’s over, I’ll meet with Lucius.”  

Hermione pushed away her treacle tart, suddenly feeling queasy, when Harry grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “Don’t worry, Hermione. I promise, you won’t regret this.”  

Hermione gave Harry a tired smile, wishing she could believe him


	17. The Game Changer

Once word got out that Ron had been released, the media buzz surrounding Hermione skyrocketed. Hounded by reporters vying for her thoughts on her ex-husband’s release, she tried to remain diplomatic. When asked, she expressed confidence that Ron was indeed innocent and her hope that the Aurors could now focus on catching the real killer.

But despite her composed demeanor, on the inside Hermione was anything but calm. With only a few days to go before the meeting with Ron, anxiety began to eat away at her, troubling her thoughts.

In addition to her concerns about seeing Ron again, she was still undecided about whether to conceal the meeting from Lucius and Draco. Lucius’ previous lesson would not soon be forgotten, but Hermione still feared that telling them would jeopardise her agreement with Harry. Since Ron’s release, both of her lovers had become over protective, checking on her constantly.

Hoping to keep her mind off of things for a little while, she owled Cho, inviting her to come over for dinner on Thursday.

When the doorbell rang, Hermione practically sprinted through her hallway, trying to control the huge grin taking over her face as she opened the door.

“Cho!”

“Hermione!”

“I’m so glad you could come,” Hermione said as they embraced.

“Me too,” Cho said, holding on tightly. When she pulled back, they both laughed at their mutual excitement to see each other.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied with a guilty smile. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault,” Cho said, waving off the apology. “I know how crazy things have been.”

“Well, dinner is almost ready. Would you like some tea while you wait?” She ushered Cho into the kitchen.

“Yes, thanks.”

“So, how have you been?”

“Pretty good,” Cho said.

After pouring Cho a cup of tea, Hermione set the kettle down to study her friend. Something was off. Cho’s cheerful smile had withered into a poor imitation of one, and if she wasn’t mistaken, her face looked unnaturally radiant. But even the flawless magic of glamour couldn’t conceal the stress in Cho’s eyes. Under Hermione’s appraising gaze, her friend’s pretense quickly fell.

“Oh all right. I’m not doing that great,” Cho conceded, staring down at her teacup.

“What is it?”

Cho sighed. “This thing with Harry is becoming … complicated.”

Hermione returned to the counter to tend to the salad, all the while telling herself to proceed carefully so as not to say anything judgmental. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, he hasn’t spoken to Ginny yet.”

“Oh?” Hermione responded as if this was the first she’d heard of it. “That’s not good, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Cho replied bitterly.

“I certainly hope you two haven’t been … doing anything.”

Cho huffed in indignation. “Not that it’s anyone’s business, but if you must know, we haven’t done anything yet!”

Finally, Hermione turned around again. “Oh, Cho. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant!” Cho said quickly. “And I get it! I really do. We both know that he needs to break it off with her first. It’s just so hard waiting.”

Hermione stood very still as she contemplated how to phrase her next question. There was no way around it, so she looked Cho right in the eyes. “And how long are you willing to wait before you walk away?”

A disgruntled sound of exasperation was all she got for a reply, but then Cho’s eyes fell to the table, and her teacup began to rattle in her hand.

Hermione’s heart clenched to see her friend so upset, and she quickly went over to take a seat beside her. Cho’s eyes remained downcast, so Hermione pried the teacup out of her hand and placed it on the table. When she threw her arms around Cho, she felt her friend shaking with sobs.

Finally Cho’s crying subsided, and she wiped her eyes. “I really don’t know how much longer I can wait. I always I say this is it. It’s either me or her. But then he comes around and we talk it out, and then he promises he’s going to break it off soon.”

A heavy weight settled in her heart as she looked back at her friend. “Cho, you know that I love Harry dearly. But this isn’t good for either one of you. The only way you’re going to really find out if he’s serious is if you walk away—now.”

Cho sighed. “I know, but it’s just so hard, Hermione. We’ve become such good friends, and losing him would mean losing a friend too.”

Hermione took a deep breath, as the pain of losing her husband and best friend swept through her as if it had happened yesterday. “Believe me, I know how difficult this is for you. I’ve been there. Losing a lover and friend all at once is one of hardest things I’ve ever gone through, but you have to ask yourself what kind of friend would put you through this? Don’t get me wrong – I love Harry. He means the world to me. He’s sweet, brave, and kind, but he’s not perfect. He has his blind spots. And one of them is the Weasleys. He loves them very much, almost to a fault. They’re his family, but if he really loves you, then he’s going to have to prove it. That means making them unhappy by leaving Ginny. If he doesn’t think you’re worth that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Cho winced at Hermione’s words, but she slowly nodded in acceptance. “You’re right. I need to break it off.”

“Soon.”

Cho swallowed. “Right. I’ll break it off with him soon. Perhaps this weekend.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she said, straightening her back and holding her chin up.

They embraced once more, and the intimacy of the moment took Hermione by surprise, rattling her defences. The longer Cho held on, the more Hermione could feel her upbeat and stoic mask crumbling. When Cho finally pulled back, Hermione’s eyes were watering.

“Hermione … what’s wrong?”

Trying to keep the tears at bay, Hermione shut her eyes. But it was too late: one escaped, followed by another.

Cho grabbed her hand.

Hermione opened her eyes, not even bothering to wipe her face. “I’m just so tired of it, Cho. I’m tired of the press and people taking my statement so they can twist my words. I’m tired of being talked about at work and the office politics. And I’m really tired of hiding my relationship with Lucius and Draco. But most of all, I’m tired of trying to make everyone happy.”

Cho gave Hermione’s hand a firm squeeze. “I was wondering when you were going to crack. You’ve been so calm and positive throughout all of this.”

“Well, I can’t do it anymore,” Hermione said in resignation.

“So don’t,” Cho said. “Just do what makes you happy.”

Hermione smiled at the naiveté of her friend’s words. “I wish it were that simple.”

“Hermione, you’re strong. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you. But, you don’t have to be strong all the time, for everyone. Give yourself a break.”

“I can’t. Now more than ever, I have to be on.”

“What do you mean?”

Hermione sat back and explained everything to Cho: her efforts to try to get Harry to back Lucius, Harry’s conditions, her upcoming meeting with Ron, and how she had to hide it all from both Lucius and Draco, as well as the press.

By the time she was finished, Cho had stretched her napkin so tightly, if it had been paper, it would have been ripped to shreds.

“Has Harry gone mad? I can’t believe he would ask you to do such a thing!”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I was very angry with him at first, but then it’s not that simple, is it? I mean, obviously Ron has something to tell me that Harry doesn’t feel comfortable disclosing. And if Harry thinks it’s important enough for me to hear, then it must be really important. Also, I have to be honest. I’m very curious about what Ron has to say … but then I also dread seeing him again. And I hate the idea of keeping any more secrets from Lucius or Draco. It just feels wrong, especially after what just happened. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise our relationship.”

“Then don’t ...” Cho said.

“You make it sound so simple. I’m telling you, it’s not!” Hermione insisted, throwing her hands up.

“Calm down, Hermione. Please, take a deep breath.”

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to quell her anxiety, feeling a bit foolish for raising her voice. When she opened them, Cho had a small smile on her face.

“OK, now listen. You gave your word to Lucius that you’d do everything you could to help him get elected. As Slytherins, both Lucius and Draco should understand that the end sometimes justify the means.”

Hermione shook her head. “No. Draco was very upset when I didn’t tell him that Ron had been owling me, and Lucius was absolutely furious when I kept the news of Ron and Draco’s fight from him. No matter what Lucius stands to gain from this arrangement, I don’t think either one of them will forgive me for not telling them.”

“So then tell them,” Cho said simply.

Hermione gaped back at Cho in disbelief. “I can’t! If either of them knew I was meeting with Ron, they’d either forbid me to go or they would insist on going with me, which would be a complete disaster.”

“Hermione, you just said that both Draco and Lucius want complete honesty. You’re doing this to help get Lucius elected, yes?”

Hermione nodded slowly.

“And Harry is going to be there, right?”

“Right…”

“Then this comes down to trust. If Lucius and Draco really trust you, then they’ll have to put aside their feelings about Ron and let you go. If they can’t, then…you have a lot more to worry about than them being angry with you.”

Hermione smiled in spite of herself, marveling at her friend. “How come we’re both so good at giving advice to each other, but—”

“We have trouble sorting out our own mess?” Cho shrugged. “I suppose it’s a good thing we have each other to lean on.”

“No … it’s great thing,” Hermione said, embracing her friend once more.

~~~*~~~

By the time Cho left, Hermione was ready to talk to Draco and Lucius. Cho’s visit had left her feeling full of conviction that if their relationship was as strong as she believed it to be, she could confide anything to them, even her upcoming meeting with Ron.

Optimistic, she quickly sent off an owl, requesting to meet with both of them at the Manor immediately.

When she stepped out of the Floo and both men rose abruptly from the couch to greet her with worried expressions, her confidence faltered.

They both made quick strides over to the hearth to help her out.

“Thank you,” she said, taking both of their hands.

“Are you all right?” Lucius asked.

“I’m fine,” she said in an upbeat tone.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked. “I rushed over here as soon as I got your letter.”

“I really appreciate that, because there’s a rather important matter I need to discuss with both of you,” she said.

“Does it have something to do with Weasley?” Draco asked. “Just say the word and he’ll be back in prison quicker than you can say ‘ginger.’”

“Or, we can simply arrange for him to disappear,” Lucius said with quiet deadliness.

“Lucius!”

He shrugged. “It was just a suggestion.”

Hermione swallowed. Lucius’ quip about making Ron disappear only deflated her confidence more.

“Please, let’s just sit down,” she said rubbing her hands together as she made her way to the sitting chair.

Both of them watched her closely as they took their seats on the couch.

“Before I begin, I just want to say that the reason why I called this meeting is because I love you both very much, and I have the greatest confidence that I can trust you to be reasonable about what I have to tell you.”

Lucius lifted one suspicious eyebrow. 

A sneer began to form on Draco’s lips. “If this has anything to do with Weasley, then you’re expecting too much.”

“I’m sorry to hear you say that, Draco, because I really did want to be able to share this with you and not go behind your back for fear of your reaction.”

Draco stood up abruptly, pointing his finger in accusation at Hermione. “You want to go and meet up with him again, don’t you?”

Lucius put a hand on his son’s arm, but Draco did not budge.

“Yes,” Hermione said simply, her eyes darting between them.

Lucius inhaled deeply through his nose, but his mouth remained firmly shut, as if trying to guard his tongue.

“I never thought I’d say this, Hermione,” Draco said in exasperation as he plopped down to sit once more. “But that is a very stupid thing to do."

“Let me explain!”

“What is there to explain?” Lucius asked. “Not only does your ex-husband manage to get off on murder charges, no doubt because of his celebrity and friendship with Potter, but within days of release, he’s already back into your good graces.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Lucius shushed her by raising one finger.

“You’ve already agreed to meet with him, haven’t you?”

Trying not to squirm under Lucius’ demanding stare, Hermione replied with a simple. “Yes.”

Lucius’ frown deepened. “Without discussing it with either one of us first?”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“The mere fact that you’re willing to be in the same room with him again is very disturbing,” Lucius said, cutting her off. “It seems I have severely underestimated the damage he has inflicted on your self-esteem.”

“I am not damaged, Lucius!” Hermione protested. “And my self-esteem is firmly intact. There’s a perfectly legitimate reason that I agreed to meet with Ron. Believe me, I wanted to discuss it with both of you first, but I couldn’t. I had to make a snap decision, but I am trying to discuss this with you now. So please, both of you, allow me to explain.”

Neither Lucius nor Draco responded, but Hermione knew that their silence was as good as it would get, and she proceeded to recount the conversation she’d had with Harry. She left out the parts that would offend Lucius and added in commentary about her friend’s obsessive need for fairness. By the end, she was disappointed to see that both men looked just as sceptical as they had before she began.

“There’s something very fishy about this,” Draco said. “Despite what the wizarding world thinks, Potter is no saint; he’s sneaky and downright devious when he feels justified. He’s up to something. I just know it. I say you call it off. Father doesn’t need his support to win.”

Hermione inwardly groaned at Draco’s reaction, and her eyes slowly shifted to Lucius, who was still watching her closely as if trying to solve a puzzle.

“It’s true, I don’t _need_ Potter’s support,” Lucius said slowly. “However … it would be a very valuable asset. But I certainly hope he isn’t under the impression that I intend to ask for his support.”

 

“No,” Hermione replied. “Harry just wants to hear your position on Ministry politics and your vision for the Board before he makes a decision about whether to back you.” 

“Hmm,” Lucius murmured as he reclined back on the couch. “And what does he stand to gain from this, Hermione? Have you asked yourself that?”

She sighed. “It’s really simple, Lucius. Harry loves both Ron and I very much.”

“Exactly!” Draco exclaimed. “It’s obvious this is just his little plot to get you two back together again!”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s what he wants. Well … perhaps a small part of him does, but I think he’s finally accepted the fact that it’s over between Ron and I.”

“So then why would he try and twist your arm to arrange this meeting?” Draco demanded.

“Because I think Harry just wants me to give Ron another chance … as a friend,” Hermione replied. “And frankly, I would like to hear what Ron has to say. Something happened to him while we were married. He became an entirely different person, and I want to know why.”

“He’s a git, that’s why! And what difference does it make anyway? Why do you need to know why, Hermione?” Draco asked. “Will it really change anything?”

“I … I don’t know, Draco,” she said genuinely. “Perhaps. Listen, I love you both very much, but Ron was a very close friend, and I would be lying to you and myself if I pretended I didn’t want to find out why we aren’t friends anymore. As my lovers, I wanted to be completely honest with you and do this with your blessing.”

Draco shook his head in disapproval, but Lucius sat perfectly still, considering Hermione for several moments before speaking. “You have my blessing,” he said.

Hermione’s heart skipped and she clasped her mouth in shock.

“Father!”

Lucius put up his hand to silence Draco. “Whatever Potter’s intentions, this is a political game, and Hermione is playing it just the way it ought to be played. If I am to secure my seat as Head of the Ministry Board, I should play along as well.”

“Even if it means compromising your principles?” Draco pressed, his brow clearly furrowed in vexation, “and allowing Potter to control everything? First, he forces Hermione to meet up with her weasel of an ex-husband -- who knows what else he’ll request of either one of you!”

Lucius smirked. “Actually, I admire Potter’s strategy here. It’s quite manipulative. And he can make any request he likes, but if I don’t agree with his terms, I will simply walk away. This is not a high stakes negotiation. Hermione’s meeting with Weasley does not threaten me in the least. In fact, I would like to know what he has to tell her.” He turned to his son. “Remember the first rule of war, Draco: know your opponent. The advantages of this meeting outweigh the risks.”

Draco grunted and looked away.

“Besides, we have nothing to worry about,” Lucius said. “Hermione has no interest in rekindling anything. Do you?”

“No,” Hermione said quickly.

“Come here,” Lucius ordered.

Hermione stood up and walked over, and Draco moved farther down the couch, twisting his body in an off-putting manner. Caught between feelings of guilt and anticipation, Hermione sat between them awkwardly.

Lucius was swift, quickly reaching around to grab her by the hair to pull her head back against the couch. Hermione’s breath caught as he leaned over her, his eyes boring into hers.

“You belong to us.”

“Completely,” she whispered breathlessly, in awe at how much his possessiveness aroused her. There was dampness between her legs, and a sudden desire to show just how completely taken she was with both of them.

Lucius grunted and his mouth descended onto hers. Hermione relaxed her head against the couch, allowing his mouth to take cover as he kissed her quite thoroughly.

When he finally pulled back, she found herself squirming for more. He’d lit a fire within her, and she wanted him to take it much further. A disgruntled sigh to her left broke her trance, and she turned her head to look at Draco.

He had his arms folded over his chest and was casting a rather surly glare at both his father and Hermione.

“Oh Draco, stop sulking, and come closer,” Hermione said, reaching out with her hand to touch his thigh.

Draco pulled his leg just out of her reach. “I can’t believe you’re really going to meet up with that idiot.”

“What are you worried about?” Hermione asked. “It won’t affect our relationship.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s hoping to change your mind about that!”

“Nothing can change my mind. Draco. I love you and Lucius, and that’s not going to end just because I have a chat with Ron.”

Draco dropped his arms, but his mouth was still twisted into a frown. “I don’t trust him.”

“Do you trust me?” Hermione asked.

His eyes searched hers for several moments before he acquiesced with a simple nod.

Relieved, Hermione motioned him towards her with her head. “Good, because at the end of it, what we have is all that matters. Now get over here.”

Draco exchanged a peculiar look with his father. Hermione raised her head, glancing back and forth between them, wondering what exactly they were communicating in silence.

Before she could think on it further, Draco slid over and leaned in to capture her mouth with a searing kiss. His tongue took over while he pulled at her blouse. When a larger set of hands joined to help undress her, Hermione reached out to touch her lovers. Her hands slipped through two heads of fine hair as her clothing was peeled away. Within a minute, she was completely naked. Draco pulled back and looked down at her with adoration before turning to give Lucius a long, meaningful look.

The meaning of it, however, was completely lost on Hermione, who sat gazing up between both of them.

“I’m ready,” he said to Lucius.

Lucius’ eyes went wide in a rare display of shock. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes,” Draco replied. “Are you?”

Lucius didn’t reply for a moment, and then he nodded. “Yes.”

“Hello! What are you two talking about?” Hermione demanded, annoyed with their covert conversation.

Lucius took a deep breath and stared at Draco, who licked his lips and clasped his hands anxiously.

“Hermione, there’s something we would like to ask you,” Draco said.

Hermione sat up fully.

Draco cleared his throat. “Normally, a Malfoy would wait at least two years to present the proposal I’m about to make …”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up as she tried to think of what Draco was about to say. Surely it couldn’t be a marriage proposal? Not that she would mind being married to either one of them, but why would he propose to her now while she was completely nude?

“But there’s no need to wait,” Draco continued. “We’re positive that what we both feel is pure … and real. We both love you, and that is why father and I feel like we are ready to take this relationship to a new level.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

“And, if you truly feel the same, we would like to ask if you would consider entering a bond with us?”

Hermione’s attention turned to Lucius, who remained unusually quiet.

“What kind of bond?” she asked him directly. “And why are you asking me now, when I’m … like this?”

“It’s a magical bond,” Draco explained. “It involves sexual consummation. Once it’s complete, it would bind you to us.”

“Permanently,” Lucius interrupted. “Unless of course, we all agreed to disband it, but it would very difficult magic to undo. The only thing that really dissolves the bond completely is death,” he finished quietly. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, and in that moment, Hermione realised just how devastating the loss of Narcissa must have been to him.

“So what do you think?” Draco asked with a nervous lilt.

Hermione stared at both of them as she tried to sort out her thoughts. So many feelings were rushing through her, making it difficult for her to reconcile her heart with her mind.

There was no shred of doubt that she loved both of them and believed that they all could be happy together for a very long time. However, her logical mind was whispering things about not rushing into a permanent commitment and the danger of binding herself to two men with possessive and volatile temperaments.

But as she reflected on her past relationships and where logic, patience, and caution had carried her before, Hermione knew that this time she should take a chance and go with her heart.

“I think I’m ready too.”

Lucius gently pulled her chin forward to look her dead in the eye. “Hermione, I want you to understand what you’re agreeing to. You are giving your consent to be magically bound to Draco and me. This is very serious magic. It’s a wedding of sorts.”

As his words sank in, the only thing that could be heard in the tense silence that ensued was the ticking of the clock.

“I do understand, Lucius,” Hermione said at last. “And I know how this will look to others. We haven’t been together long, and with our past …”

Lucius’ face quickly transformed into an unreadable mask, and his entire body stiffened. Hermione reached out her hand to him, palm up. Slowly, he placed his hands into hers, but his eyes were still wary.

“With our past being what it is,” she continued. “It’s nothing short of amazing that we’ve been able to build such a strong connection in such a short time. I’ve never felt the way I feel right now, and I don’t care what other people think. What you, Draco, and I have is very rare, and I want to be connected to both of you in every way for as long as I can. However …”

Both men drew closer at her pause.

She took a breath before continuing. “I need to know that both of you are doing this for the right reasons.”

Draco tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Draco, just a few minutes ago you were absolutely livid over the idea of me meeting up with Ron. I need to know that you’re not making this proposal out of fear or jealousy to secure my love like it’s some type of trophy to be won.”

Draco’s eyes dropped briefly to the couch briefly as he contemplated her words. “Hermione, I’ll admit, you meeting up with Weasley sickens me, and … perhaps it may have hastened this proposal. But that doesn’t make it any less sincere. Father and I have been discussing this for some time now.”

Hermione looked at him skeptically, but then a smile broke on her lips. The earnest sincerity in Draco’s eyes erased the last of her doubts. “Good. Then, if you’re ready, so am I. I want to be bound to both of you.”

The corners of Lucius’ mouth twitched a little as he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I would like that as well.”

Hermione kissed him again, and when the kiss broke, she felt Draco watching them. She turned abruptly and kissed him full on the mouth. Draco was smiling throughout and Hermione felt her heart swell as wonderful excitement and anticipation rushed through her, making it hard to sit still. She was about to be bound to both Draco and Lucius. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

She and Draco clasped hands and stared at each other until Lucius began speaking, drawing both of their attention to him.

“This house, our estate, is very old,” he explained. “It’s been in our family for centuries and possesses a magic of its own.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a tingle ran down Hermione’s arm. Suddenly, the air in the room was charged with static energy. Her eyes darted to the portrait near the hearth; the distinguished grey-haired man featured in it seemed to be staring right at her.

“What kind of magic?” she asked, hating the nervous quiver in her voice. “Is it … dark?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Lucius stood up and began to disrobe.

Draco followed his father’s lead, taking off his shirt, trousers, and pants. Hermione sat watching them in silence as they peeled off their clothing. It was always a lovely sight to behold. When they were both completely nude, they extended their hands to her. Hermione took their hands and let them to pull her up to standing.

“Because this estate is the bedrock of our family,” Lucius continued, “it is very possessive of our family. Regardless of where a Malfoy marriage takes place, it is not considered official until it is consummated here. The Manor must give its approval.”

Hermione swallowed as her heart climbed into her throat. It was a struggle, but she had to ask the one question she feared to be answered. “I see. But I’m—”

“A Muggle born,” Lucius finished. “Yes. It’s never been done before.”

“Although, technically, no one is _completely_ pure…” Draco blurted out.

Lucius gave his son an irritated glance and resumed speaking. “In the strictest sense of the word pure, Draco is correct. However, there are acceptable levels, and unacceptable levels of blood purity. Malfoys who break the tradition for maintaining the current standard of purity have always been disowned, disavowed, and banned from partaking in this ceremony.”

“But there’s a first time for everything,” Draco interjected quickly with determination in his voice. “The house cannot refuse us. We’re the sole living heirs, and our feelings about you are too strong to be denied.”

“Are you sure about that?” Hermione asked with narrowed eyes.

Lucius and Draco exchanged a glance before Lucius spoke. “No. We’re not sure at all, but we aren’t at the complete mercy of the house. We are the living owners, after all.”

“Exactly, and if we wanted to, we could burn it down!” Draco said flippantly.

“Draco!” Lucius hissed.

Draco clicked his teeth, casting a disgruntled glance about the room as if the walls could see his protest. “Amor vincit omnia, Father.”

Lucius sighed. “We shall see, Draco, we shall see. What is most important, 

Hermione, is that you understand that even if the Manor doesn’t approve of this bond, it will not change our feelings for you.”

Hermione nodded and tried to offer Lucius a grateful smile, but his words had already snuck into her heart like a pebble in her shoe, irritating an old insecurity. 

Despite Draco and Lucius’ proclamations of love, Hermione knew that if the Manor rejected their bond because of her blood status, it would sting badly. She also knew that deep down inside, if she were rejected, she’d always harbor a fear that the rejection would cause both of them to second-guess their decision. Apprehension began to coil in her stomach. She glanced around the room once more; every portrait with eyes seemed to be watching her.

With their hands still grasping hers, Draco and Lucius stepped in closer, creating a triangle.

Lucius took a deep breath and began to speak in a loud, authoritarian voice. “In the presence of this house, we present ourselves and humbly request an audience.”

Suddenly, the torchlights extinguished, as if blown out like a candle, and there was a whoosh in the hearth as fire sprang to life. Hermione jumped. Soon the entire room was bathed in its eerie, orange-red glow.

“What do you seek?” came a chorus of whispers that echoed throughout the room.

Hermione dared to turn her head, seeking out the voices, and found no one. But the air was denser, and there was definitely a presence, or perhaps several, in their midst now that hadn’t been there before. She could feel the hairs standing up on back of her neck.

“We have come to consummate our union with this witch, Hermione Jean Granger. Hear us now and witness these vows.”

Hermione looked down at their joined hands as both men tightened their grip. Her breath was coming in quicker now. Lucius’ gaze was no longer on her but on the ceiling, as if the house had eyes and was staring down on all of them.

Hermione looked to Draco, and found him staring back at her. There was a small sheen of sweat on his brow, and his eyes held resolution.

The static in the air increased and the fire crackled louder. Several moments passed before Hermione sensed something moving like a rolling wave above her. She tilted her head back and gasped.

It looked as if the roof had been ripped off of the Manor; the classically designed ceiling was gone, revealing a stormy grey sky. Lightning flashed, breaking through the clouds, but there was no sound.

“Who is this witch? She is not of pure blood,” barked a loud male voice. Hermione stood still, trying not to cower despite the fear the voice inspired. It sounded like it belonged to someone very old, powerful, and angry.

“No … she is not,” Lucius answered firmly, his gaze unflinching as he stared at the sky.

Hermione almost winced as the grey cloud darkened and more lightning flashed, and when a sharp scream pierced the silence of the room, she let out a small squeak. 

The house began to rumble, shaking like a snow globe being picked up. When the rumbling ceased, Hermione shivered as the dense air began to thicken and congeal around her body. _Something_ was touching her, feeling her up, only she couldn’t see it. It felt like fingers, only there were too many to belong to just one set of hands. Hermione’s skin prickled as the invisible breath of many whispers resumed around her. They were discussing her. She held as still as she could, her eyes wide with terror but not seeing anything. She could smell them though: some carried light floral scents while others smelled of cigars, leather, and wood. They caressed and explored her naked flesh, making her tense and blush. Feeling utterly exposed and scrutinised, she squeezed Draco and Lucius’ hands, bracing herself for the worst.

But as quickly as the fingers had appeared, they disappeared again, and the room became lighter as the dark cloud above turned to light grey again.

“Proceed,” said an ominous older female voice.

Lucius lowered his head and let out a small sigh of relief. Hermione sighed, feeling almost giddy with relief. She looked to Draco, and saw him looking back at her with a smug smile on his face.

Lucius gave his son a disapproving headshake. “It is not done yet, Draco.”

Draco’s smile quickly faded.

“You know the vow, yes?” Lucius asked.

“Yes, Father.”

“Then let’s begin …”

Draco nodded and set his eyes on Hermione.

“Hermione,” Lucius said. “Please repeat after us.”

She nodded.

“Nunc scio quid sit amor. Ama me fideliter, Fidem meam toto, Decorde totaliter, Et ex mente tota, Sum presentialiter. Hic et nunc intra muros - dictum meum pactum. Incipit in infinitum.”

Hermione slowly repeated the words, while trying to decipher the bits she remembered from school. These definitely sounded like marriage vows. The words love, bond, faith heart, and infinity stood out as she finished.

At the end of it, both Draco and Lucius lifted their joined hands to their lips and kissed the top of her hand. A tingling sensation traveled up her body as they drew her closer, moving their lips from her hands to her arms and finally to her neck.

“Do you know what you just said?” Lucius asked.

Hermione’s voice felt caught in her tongue, and she shook her head slowly.

“Now that I know what love is, as my word is my bond,” Lucius said. “You will love me faithfully, and you will see how faithful I am. With all my heart and all my soul, here and now, I stand with you. And within these walls, this bond will begin now, and will never end.”

When Lucius pulled back to look into her eyes, Hermione was swept up in his gaze. He kissed her full on the mouth, and when the kiss broke, he smiled. “I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you too, Lucius.”

Her eyes shifted to Draco, who stood watching them. Her mouth opened to repeat her devotion, but no words were needed as Draco pulled her into him. Tears were coming to her eyes as he lifted her up and set her on her feet again to kiss her for several moments.

Draco scooped Hermione into his arms, eliciting a small yelp from her, before he carried her to the very center of the room where a soft bearskin rug lay. He kneeled to lay her down gently upon it, and Lucius soon joined them, kneeling down on the other side of her.

For a moment, Draco didn’t move, he simply peered down at her, his eyes taking in every inch of her skin, and Hermione felt her entire body flush under the heat of his gaze. He leaned in and kissed her, his hands cupping her face. Hermione lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, raising her head to kiss him back.

As his body covered hers, she could feel Draco’s hard cock rubbing against her thigh. Hermione spread her legs to give him entry.

Instead, she and Draco were pushed over onto their sides. Her eyes flew open at the unexpected move, and suddenly she felt the fine hairs of Lucius’ chest tickling her back, and his hard cock against the cleft of her arse.

“Relax,” he whispered, and she stilled. The wetness between her legs began to seep down her thigh. Lucius moved to dip his cock in the wetness, coating himself and stroking her inner thigh, which only increased her wetness.

Draco was watching his father over her shoulder.

“Ready? Lucius asked.

“Yes,” Draco answered.

“Are you ready, Hermione?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” she said, putting one hand behind her to touch Lucius’ leg and the other against Draco’s chest to steady herself.

Draco grabbed Hermione’s right thigh, and pulled it up until he could get into a comfortable position in which to penetrate her, while Lucius moved in closer from behind.

Hermione pressed into Draco’s chest “as Lucius pushed against the puckered ring of muscle between her arse cheeks. When Draco moved forward to press against her cunt, she held her breath.. 

She hadn’t realised just how tense she was until Draco leaned in to capture her lips with his. When Lucius’ mouth fell on her neck and he whispered “relax” against her skin, Hermione closed her eyes and just let go. 

As if of one mind, Draco and Lucius both moved, sinking into her. Hermione moaned and held still, her head buzzing from the feel of being filled from both sides. Lucius took his time, working himself into her easy, while Draco began to move with slow and steady strokes. 

She felt so full, and it felt so good to be surrounded and filled by both of them in this way. Her body was tingling with desire, but even more than that, she felt a sense of completion and security like she’d never known. She pressed her leg around Draco’s arse, and reached back to grasp Lucius’ thigh. Lucius’ teeth grazed her neck, and she heard him growl deep in his throat. She gasped and held on as Draco began to pick up his pace, every stroke he took pushed her on the back on Lucius’ cock.

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered at the sensation of them moving inside of her like this. 

It was almost too much.

Just when the sensation began to overwhelm her, sending her to the edge of delirium, Draco brought her back, caressing her face before leaning in to kiss her. 

She felt Lucius’ hand close over hers as she held on. When he pulled and pushed in deeper, Hermione’s lips broke from Draco’s, and she let out a short cry. Lucius nuzzled against her neck. “Always.”

“Yes, always,” she moaned, throwing her head back. Draco’s mouth fell onto her neck, kissing as he continued to move against her.

So swept up in their lovemaking, Hermione had almost forgotten about the house, and the presence Lucius had summoned until she felt the air began to move as if the door had been blown open by a breeze. In spite of the two warm bodies encasing her, the air chilled her skin, giving her goose bumps. She opened her eyes and saw the ceiling was storming again, only now she could feel its turbulence. Someone else was here. She could feel their stare. Only it wasn’t coming from one direction, but from all around her, as if the entire room was now alive and watching them.

Draco continued to make love to her, but his eyes were wide open now as well, and he glanced around before returning his attention fully to her. As their bodies moved in sync, like an erotic dance, the breeze ceased and a tingle of magic settled over Hermione’s exposed skin. It stretched and tightened against her flesh like silken cords. Draco lifted his head and opened his mouth in a soundless gasp as the invisible elastic tightened around their bodies.

“Hermione,” Draco whispered.

In that moment, Hermione’s eyes locked with his, and no words needed to be said as she stared back at him. The raw emotion she saw there filled her heart,

The binding was snaking its way along every inch of their bodies, pulling them all closer together.

Hermione closed her eyes once more, focusing on the feeling of both of them moving inside of her, filling her completely. It felt so good and natural; they felt like extensions of her, and she could feel something building inside of her core as they continued to pull pleasure from her. Her orgasm was imminent, and she twisted and writhed, encouraging them to throw caution to the wind and take her with fervor.

Lucius’ hand gripped her hip. When he began to pump spasmodically, grunting, she knew he was close, and she looked up at Draco who sped up his thrusts, his eyes half laden and his mouth open in a perpetual moan.

Hermione could feel the binding wrapped around them, vibrating, feeding off of their desire.

The pressure inside her center was reaching its apex. “Oh!” she gasped, and Lucius went rigid behind her, his fingers clawing her hip. Hermione began to shake as her orgasm crashed over her, and she clenched around Draco’s cock. Draco gave two more thrusts and they both groaned in unison as he spilled his seed deep inside of her.

They all lay still for several moments until the euphoric high of Hermione’s orgasm dissipated into a calm blanket over her.

She opened her eyes to see Draco already looking at her. He smiled and then gave her a long lazy kiss. The binding grew hot for a moment, and then it began to sag and run like candle wax over their skin. Hermione tried to look down to see it, but saw nothing except her flesh against Draco’s.

“It’s done,” he said with a cheeky grin. “You’re really stuck with us now.”

Hermione laughed softly. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be stuck than here.”

“Consummatum est,” Lucius murmured against her shoulder before planting a soft kiss. “It is done. “

Draco looked up at his father and smiled.

Lucius chuckled. “It seems you were right, Draco. But please, don’t gloat. It’s not becoming.”

Draco snorted and Hermione let her head fall against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she reached back to cover Lucius’ hand.

“So … when do we move in?” she asked.

~~~*~~~

_That weekend…_

As the day of her meeting with Ron approached, Hermione’s anxiety and doubt gave way to the one emotion that continued to sit heavy in her heart: anger. By Saturday, Hermione was consumed with it. From the moment she had awakened on Saturday until the moment she’d arrived at Harry and Ginny’s home, Hermione was as tightly wound as a ticking time bomb. 

Harry may have invited her over to listen to Ron’s side of things, but Hermione had other plans. If Ron so much as looked at her in the wrong way, she was ready to blow. She’d already mentally rehearsed a scathing retort to every one of the lame excuses she expected him to use. No excuse in the world could erase the pain he’d caused. It was really only for Lucius’ sake that she was following through with Harry’s agreement, so she resolved to at least try and be cordial before tearing Ron to shreds.

She decided to drive. Harry and Ginny lived in rural Surrey, and it was a good enough distance from Hermione’s home to justify a drive. She missed taking drives out in the country. Besides, it gave her plenty of opportunity to practice the tongue-lashing she planned to deliver once Ron was done with his spiel.

Hermione had only visited Harry and Ginny’s home twice, once right before the wedding, and a few months shortly after. Formerly tan with green shutters, the cottage had been completely renovated. There was now a small garden in the front yard, an added side wing, and it had been repainted white with burgundy shutters.

When she knocked on the door, Ginny greeted her with open arms.

“Hermione, so good to see you,” she said, embracing her former sister-in-law.

Hermione hugged Ginny back, her eyes scanning the décor, the furnishings were like something out of a home magazine. Bright sunlight shone through several windows, warming the entire house, and the walls were warm and colorful. The furniture looked cozy and inviting, and even in the foyer Hermione could see many moving photographs of family and friends adorning the walls. From outside appearances, it certainly looked like a happy home.

“You home is beautiful,” Hermione said.

“Thank you.”

Hermione leaned to the side, looking around for signs of Harry or Ron; it was strangely quiet.

“Oh, the boys are out back,” Ginny explained. “Harry’s showing Ron the miniature pitch he built for little league.”

“A miniature pitch?” Hermione repeated in wonderment. She thought of walking out back to have a look herself but remembered Ron would be there, so she resigned herself to have a look at it another time.

“Would you like some tea?” Ginny offered.

“Yes, thank you,” Hermione said, following her into the kitchen.

Hermione took a seat, watching as Ginny put on a teapot and chose a cup. She hadn’t noticed before, but Ginny appeared to be nervous. Her eyes were intensely focused on her task, and her lips were drawn back into a thin, false smile, making her entire face tight.

“So, how are things?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, wonderful!” Ginny said quickly. “Just very busy.”

“Oh? What have you been up to since you quit the Harpies?”

“Loads,” Ginny said with an exasperated sigh. “I really didn’t have time for that life. There’s so much to do here. But enough about me, how are _you_?”

“I’m doing really well…” Hermione said, unable to help the smile growing on her face.

“Well certainly look great. You’re glowing really.”

Hermione laughed. “Thank you.”

The door opened, and Ginny’s face went tight again. Hermione turned her head and saw Harry approaching. Ron seemed to be almost hiding behind him, taking his time to close the door before following at a distance.

“Hermione …”

“Harry,” she replied stiffly as she prepared herself for Ron’s entrance.

Harry entered the kitchen while Ron slowed down, finally stopping at the entranceway. He was clenching his fists by his side, but this time, it was out of nervousness instead of rage. Still, it reminded Hermione of that awful day of the fight.

She stared up at him, her anger making her face hot.

“Hello, Hermione,” he said softly.

“Ron,” she nearly spat.

When Ron dropped his eyes temporarily and shuffled his feet, Hermione felt her impatience grow. She didn’t come here to see him feeling sorry for himself or trying to elicit her sympathy. She huffed and turned her head, keeping her back to him. Ginny was peering over her head towards her brother and Harry. Hermione waited for them both to come around and take a seat at the table.

Harry sat at the head, and Ron sat at the other end, just out of arm’s reach of Hermione.

“Thank you for coming.”

Hermione ground her teeth and forced herself to look at him.

Ron’s face immediately turned rose-red from her scathing glare. “I, uh … I have so much to say.”

Hermione sighed. “Ron, if you brought me here to apologise, you can save it.”

“No, it’s not that … I mean it’s not _just_ that. I do want to apologise, but I also want to explain.”

Here it was, the great speech. Hermione fought to keep from rolling her eyes as she took a sip of her tea, but one glance at Harry told her that she had better cool it and honor their agreement or he’d back out of his meeting with Lucius. So she pursed her lips instead and sat back.

“Go on ...”

Ron took a deep breath and glanced at Harry and his sister, who finally took a seat.

Ginny made an effort at giving Hermione a comforting smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

“Hermione … I’ve really made a mess of things,” Ron said.

 _No shit,_ Hermione thought.

“I’ve hurt or alienated myself from nearly everyone I care about. You, Harry … Ginny, Mum and Dad, my teammates… I’ve been a total arse.”

It was hard to keep from telling Ron to stop pointing out the obvious, but somehow Hermione managed to hold her tongue.

“I haven’t been myself for the past five years. I don’t even know who that was. I had no idea that taking performance enhancement potions would be so addictive, or that they could do so much damage. I didn’t know they could change someone’s personality.”

Hermione stared at Ron in disbelief, and he rushed to explain. “You remember the year Harry defeated You-Know-Who, the year the press really started in on us?”

Hermione nodded slowly.

“Skeeter and the rest were always in our faces at every turn. It used to drive me nuts. It kept me up at night. I’d replay all of the interviews I did and knock my head over all of the answers I’d screwed up. I was never able to speak as well as you and Harry. And then the press even started making fun of me.”

Hermione wrinkled her brow. “I don’t remember that.”

“What about that article by Witches Weekly? The one that went on about how hot I could be, if only I—”

“Kept your mouth shut,” they all recited together.

Hermione gasped. “I completely forgot all about that.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t,” Ron said. “After that, I was determined not to be made fun of ever again. As far as the press was concerned, you and Harry both had a valuable skill. You had the brains and Harry was the Master of Death who defeated You-Know-Who. But me, I had nothing. I was just the sidekick. The only thing I had going for me was Quidditch, but no one really cared about that. I wasn’t good enough to try out for a professional team or anything.”

Hermione tried to remain angry, but sympathy was beginning to creep in, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Well, I figured I could change that. Make myself at least good enough to be a second string player on a third rate team.”

“Ron, what difference would it have made to the press if you were on a Quidditch team? Why do you care so much about what they think about you?”

“Back then I wasn’t trying to impress them.”

“Then who were you trying to impress?”

“You …”

Hermione blinked, temporarily stunned.

Ron took a deep breath and leaned over, holding his head in his hands as he explained. “I thought that if the press was making fun of me, it wouldn’t be long before you started looking at me differently too. You could have had your pick of anyone, Hermione, so why would you have stayed with me? I didn’t want to lose you, so with a lot of hard work and a little extra help from potion enhancements, I changed my game. I got stronger, faster, better, more confident in myself.

“But then something else started to change. I started feeling powerful, like I could do anything. I no longer cared about impressing you—I wanted to be better than you. I wanted to prove everyone who’d ever said I wasn’t good enough for you wrong. Get them to thinking that maybe you weren’t good enough for _me._ And then I started getting paranoid … I started thinking everyone I’d ever known was someone to prove wrong. It was like they were all on the opposing team, and I had to beat them. I had to win, no matter what.”

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione whispered in disbelief and sadness.

“I just want you to know that I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for trying to compensate for what I didn’t think I had by taking those potions. I ended up losing everything I really cared about, and now I really regret it. I regret losing you.”

Hermione had tears in her eyes as she stared back him. He was no longer her obnoxious ex-husband and former best friend. For the first time in four years, she saw the Ron that she’d married.

“Ron’s dependence on enhancement potions is one of the reasons why we were able to rule him out as a suspect. He’s been on it so long that it’s a part of his system. It’s in his blood and semen … everything,” Harry said gravely.

Hermione put her hand to her mouth to hold back a sob.

“He’s been in detox for the past week,” Harry continued. “It won’t happen right away, but with the proper treatment and regular purification, he should be back to himself within the year.”

Hermione’s heart raced as the intensity of the treatment sunk in. “A year?”

“Yeah, I took so much that my body doesn’t really know how to function without it.”

“Oh no! Were there any other side effects?”

“Besides my personality change and the rage?” Ron asked sarcastically with a short dry laugh. “Well, they said I may have damaged my liver, but that’s about it.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Hermione said in relief. “I can’t believe you … I mean, it’s bad enough you destroyed our friendship and marriage, but you really could have killed yourself!”

“I know … I know,” Ron sighed, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

Hermione simply shook her head. The tears wouldn’t stop. “I don’t really know what to say, Ron …”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to understand that even though it was me doing those things, it really wasn’t me. I’m not trying to shirk responsibility or anything, but I wanted to explain.”

Hermione nodded.

“Anyway, I’m going to be staying with Mum and Dad until I can get cleaned up.”

“What about playing Quidditch?”

Ron shook his head. “I don’t even know how to play anymore without taking potions first. Just the thought of playing makes me think of drinking that stuff. I don’t think it’s good for me.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll figure it out. I have plenty of time to think about it now…” He paused, his eyes searching hers nervously as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Hermione held her breath, afraid to hear his next words.

“Hermione, I know you’re probably still angry with me, and I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. But if I get cleaned up… do you … do you think there’s a chance we could ever be friends again?”

Hermione exhaled in relief, grateful that he hadn’t asked for more than that. She wiped her face and stared back at him, surprised at how quickly anger had been replaced by pity and gratitude. She'd once thought she had completely lost him, and from the sounds of it, she almost had. But Ron was still alive, and even now, Hermione could see shadows of the man she had once regarded as her best friend. 

As she reached out over the table to place her hand over his, Ron looked at her in astonishment, and took a big gulp.

“Yes,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK guys, we’ve reached the end of the written portion of this story. There’s only three chapters left, and they’re fully outlined, I just need to write them! I plan to write the last bit over the summer-fall. I _really_ want to finish this story, so I will! That’s just how I roll. Thank you in advance for your patience, and thanks so much for reading. See you on the flip side, and have a great summer!


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